


I Won’t Fall Out of Love (I’ll Fall Into You) – An Earth-2 Westallen Story

by MirrorKing96



Series: Miss Miracle [2]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Drama, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Gen, Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-13 00:41:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 48,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9097912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirrorKing96/pseuds/MirrorKing96
Summary: Detective Bartholomew Allen spends about five seconds with Doctor Iris West, Central City Police Department’s newest CSI, and decides that he doesn’t like her. For her part, Iris is certain that the feeling is completely mutual. But while trying to take down one of the biggest crime families in Central City, they promptly fall in love.Of course.***Genderflipped AU of how E2 WA met, originally for iriswestallens' birthday.Title taken from 'Parachute' by Ingrid Michaelson





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for iriswestallens' birthday as a companion to my Miss Miracle story, but I have (hopefully) written it in such a way that it's accessible to everyone. That character doesn't really feature in this much, it's just a way I think that Barry and Iris met had their lives been switched, so the emphasis is on them.  
> For those of you who DO read that story...enjoy.  
> Shoutout to valeriemperez on tumblr for being a bloody amazing beta and reading a story that got WAY too long! Hope you like it!

“Lawton, we gotta motor!”

“Would you shut up? I’ve got neighbours!”

“What are you, doing your hair in there? Move it!”

“Quit hounding me!”

In the next second, the door opens, and Detective Floriana Lawton stomps out of her apartment to greet her partner, who by now has stopped banging on the door. Detective Bartholomew Allen, after a year of being her partner, is no longer surprised at the venomous look in her hazel eyes. “Before you say anything,” he says, “you were the one who said that you were sick of me being late.”

“Because it’s unnatural!” she tells him, shutting her door and taking the coffee that he at least deigned to get her from Jitterbugs. “Barry, you ran track in college. Your mother told me they called you the fastest man alive. How are you always late to everything?”

Barry shrugs as they head down the stairs and into the September sun. “Maybe,” he suggests, striding briskly down the street, “the same way you’re a cop who can’t shoot, Deadshot.”

Lawton punches him in the side. “I told you not to call me that! I know I’m not the best shot in the department-”

“Lawton, you are the _worst_ shot in the entire department.”

“But,” she says pointedly, “my marksmanship has gone up by two points.”

“Two points?” he repeats. “Golly gee, they should just go ahead and make you captain.”

“Asshole,” she mutters, checking her hair in a bowtie shop window. Barry makes a note to himself that he needs to get a new waistcoat – this one is getting a little frayed. He’s always liked the dark grey number that he got the day he was promoted to detective, but when you need new threads, you need new threads. Lawton, meanwhile, is affixing her badge to her wide-legged brown pants and making sure her holster is attached securely to her silk top. “Why did the captain call us so early, by the way?”

“Apparently, there’s a dead body on the Spring Street on the intersection,” he explains, trying to remember what Captain Kyla Nimbus told him on the phone while he was eating his cereal. “Jewellery store robbery gone wrong, from what I hear.”

“Tuesday in Central City,” she sighs ruefully. They walk quickly to the city centre, past the skyway station as people wait to get on the high-flying trains, past Jitterbugs, and through the park with the Madam Miracle statue in it. As always, Barry lingers on it, even though he knows that statue as well as he knows his own face. His father used to bring him here before he died, pushing him on swings and chasing him between bushes and hedges, telling him that he could be as big a hero as she could if he worked hard enough. Henry died before he could see his son sworn into CCPD, before he could see his son graduate high school, even, but that doesn’t mean every case he solves, every criminal he brings to justice, isn’t for his memory.

Central City has changed very little since Madam Miracle flew around catching criminals. For one thing, the metahumans have largely disappeared, and the few that have returned in the ten years that she retired make sure not to cause too much trouble lest she come back. Dr. Wells and her husband, Terrence Chambers, two of the most prolific scientific researchers in the country, were close to turning on their Particle Accelerator, so every news item that hit the airwaves is about some new development or other and how it is going to change the world. Senator Mars has passed that law making the use of electroshock therapy on murderers illegal, which was met with almost unanimous praise.

Lawton, seeing that Barry is deep in thought, doesn’t say anything as they head to the crime scene. It’s one of the reasons they work so well, he and his partner. She is a terrible shot, yes, but Floriana Lawton is quick-witted, intelligent, brave and honourable, and when he was finally promoted to detective a year ago he thought he couldn’t wish for a better partner. She’s also a little softer around the edges and easier to talk to, while he’s blunter, and reserved when he’s not on the job. She’s always had his back, though, and he’ll always have hers.

They get to the scene and see that the victim is covered underneath a sheet, with cops trying to keep everyone back. Glass is spread all over the floor around him, and they can see that someone has made a mess of the shop window. Barry’s already reaching for his notepad when they get there, and he throws his shoulders back as they spot the people who have been gathered into one corner as witnesses. “Ready, partner?” Lawton asks.

“Let’s get to work.”

***

“It’s going to suck.”

“It will not suck.”

“Mm, yeah, it will. It will suck and keep sucking and just when you think it won’t suck anymore, it will. I’m Linda, I know things.”

Iris West looks at her best friend, sprawled out on the bed and flicking through a magazine, before glancing back at the mirror as she adjusts her outfit. “I hope Missy Bridge isn’t letting you write articles with that ingenious prose.”

Then she ducks when Linda hurls the magazine at her head. “Look, Miss Thing, I am in _mourning_ here. Because as much as I enjoyed coming to visit you and having high tea at that stupidly fancy university you insisted on traipsing across the world for-”

“Do you mean Oxford?” Iris laughs, and her roommate waves a hand.

“Whatever. Why you couldn’t get a PhD in this country, I’ll never know. But it has been a _year_. A year of Skype conversations and Wednesday lunches by myself and no one to salivate over the hot British guys on _Downton Abbey_ with me, and now this new job is going to suck up all your time.”

Iris turns away, deciding that the blue lacy dress with knee-high boots is fine for a first day, since she’s not supposed to be doing anything more strenuous than meeting the team and taking a look around her department. She’s been told in terms that are less than subtle that she’s being hired for her work experience on some big case that she did during her masters, and the fieldwork from her PhD. Objectively it was pretty impressive, given that she’s so young, but for her it was just a normal Tuesday, like today. Forensics has always been her thing, ever since she was a kid and her mom got her that junior CSI kit (she _still_ has no idea how she set fire to the curtains, but she’s inclined to blame Wally).

“I am always going to make time for my Lin,” she corrects, sitting down next to her. She rubs her nose before adjusting her glasses and flipping her dark hair out of her face. “Besides, don’t you have Wally around for when you’re bored? Or Colin and Ronnie?”

“Your cousin is a surgical resident – trying to spending time with him is like trying to spend time with a unicorn. And as much as I love those guys, the STAR Labs nerds are _your_ friends. Last week you all spent hours talking about a centrifuge.”

“But they’re so cool!” Iris practically squeals. “Dr. Wells got an _ultracentrifuge_ last week. The g-force on that is, like, a million! Do you have any idea how many different substances you can separate with that? We could solve double the crimes in half the time.”

Linda, after almost twenty years of friendship, thinks that Iris’ incessant babbling about science is endearing rather than annoying. “You know, I never thought I’d be friends with such a nerd. A totally hot one, but still.”

Iris laughs. “You think there’s an alternative universe where we’re both hotshot reporters?”

“Please, like the world could handle that amount of awesome. Now shoo. Go save the world, one blood splatter sample at a time.”

Iris grins and hugs her, and then gathers up her stuff before leaving. (And then doubles back and picks up the lunch that she forgot, taking it from Linda with a sheepish smile, because this _is_ Iris West we’re talking about).

Central City looks exactly the same as she left it all those years ago, when she and Linda and Ronnie Raymond and Colin Snow (who’s a doctor now too, she has to remember that), all cried at their high school prom and said how much they were going to miss each other. Then she went off to Notre Dame and then did her postgrad, but not before reading everything on forensic science that she could get her hands on.

A she walks past Jitterbugs, the piano bar and coffee lounge that she’s always felt too intimidated to go into, she’s reminded that she needs to find a new place for way too much stuff. Specifically, a place to get her coffee, a bakery for her brownies and cronuts, a place to get shoes…Seriously, moving back home after so long is more complicated than she thought it would be.

Still, it was the right decision. She had wanted to work in CCPD since she was small, in that big building with the golden mural in the front entrance, doing what she could to be a hero. No amount of research and papers and presentations could ever compare to the feeling of solving something, even if she’s always been an assistant or an intern or a lackey. She isn’t this time, though – Captain Kyla Nimbus has offered her the position of Senior Crime Scene Investigator, with the promise that she’ll probably be head of the department soon if she works hard enough, given her experience and education level.

Iris walks through the park on the way to work, wondering whether she can pick out an easy route to the paper. It’ll be nice to have lunch with her best friend again as often as she’d like, something she couldn’t do while she was in England. As she’s thinking this, she comes across the golden statue of Madam Miracle that stands looking out at everyone. At twenty-five, Iris is old enough to have seen her running around the city on her various exploits, and to remember the news report that had announced that she was officially retiring. She remembers sitting up in Linda’s room after school to see that the detective she’d worked closely with in the CCPD – Dawnette something? – told everyone that with the decrease of metahumans and CCPD’s increased ability to fight them, as well as her own advancing age, Madame Miracle was out of the hero business for good. But that didn’t stop all the people she inspired – Iris still has a replica of the helmet that she used to use on her desk at home.

Iris West is a scientist. She analyses blood samples and does DNA cross matching. But that doesn’t mean she is any less of a hero.

***

“Where’s the CSI?”

Lawton, used to Barry’s complete lack of tact, doesn’t look away from studying her notes. “Late, apparently. Nimbus called me a second ago, said she forgot how to get here.”

“She _forgot_?” he demands incredulously.

Lawton just shrugs, and Barry resists the urge to roll his eyes. It took him three years to get used to the CSI they had – an intelligent, quiet guy who went off to work for Queen Industries last month, and now he has to get used to a scatterbrain who can’t operate public transport. “What’ve you got? Most people can’t get past the fact that someone got shot.”

“According to witnesses, everything was fine and dandy this morning, then all the alarms start going off. Two guys make out with the bags of stuff they took, and they run into a bystander. Shoot him at point blank range, get into a car, drive off. Seemed planned up until they shot the guy. People usually try not to spill blood in situations like this; makes it messy.”

Barry makes a noise in surprise, and steps closer to where the body sits in the middle of the street, blood pooling around it, and tries to determine the path of the shooter. “Who’s the new CSI, again? Best something?”

“Dr. Iris West, Allen,” Lawton reminds him. “Amazing, apparently. Interned on in almost all the departments on the Pacific coast before college, double majored in Physics and Chemistry at Notre Dame, and then went to England for postgrad.”

“All of that and she forgets how to get to Spring Street?” He shakes his head. “Well, my interviews are all done, how are we with video?”

“My interviews are done too, but there’s a little trouble with getting the surveillance footage.”

He’s found out that the dead guy is Tommy Larsen, a construction worker from one of the rougher parts of town. “And they said he was on his way to work?”

“Likely,” Lawton replies. “Queen Industries is doing some work on the monorail, and his company was hired to work for them.”

“And the store owner says he did this walk every day,” Barry sighs, standing up. Tommy Larsen is lying on the floor underneath a sheet, and Barry kneels next to him as Lawton stands next to him, looking into the store. It hits him then, the keening, potent feeling that drove him to sign up for the police academy training after he graduated college. Tommy Larsen, he’ll later find out, has a wife and two kids, nine and fourteen. And some asshole just shot him in the street like he was nothing – like his life meant _nothing_. Barry closes his eyes briefly, flashing back to that day years ago, when they showed up to tell him about his father-

“Where the hell is the CSI?” he snaps at no one in particular.

“I’m here!” a voice says from behind him, and he turns around, and that’s when he sees her. She is petite, even smaller than his sister, with black hair and pretty brown eyes behind thick-rimmed, square black glasses. She’s also wearing a dark blue dress and knee high black boots, which is at odds with the gear that is slung across her back. She comes to a stop in front of him, flipping her hair out of her face. “Sorry, I got a little lost.”

Barry just looks at her for about a second, suddenly feeling a little breathless and unable to stop staring at her face. Specifically, her full, cherry red lips as she’s talking. “I-I’m sorry,” she says slowly when he doesn’t say anything, looking around. “Are you looking for a CSI, or…”

“Yes,” he says eventually, shaking his head. He sticks his hand out. “Detective Bartholomew Allen, Intelligence.”

“Dr. Iris West,” she replies laughing. “Cancer.” When he frowns at her, she drops her hand. “Okay, detectives at CCPD don’t do jokes. Noted.”

“I’d be more inclined for jokes if you weren’t late.”

“I was late?” she repeats, feigning confusion as she sets her gearbox down. “I didn’t get that from your demeanour, all the yelling, or the unpleasant look on your face.”

“You were holding up my investigation into this man’s death.”

Iris blinks at him. “And you decided to take your revenge by standing in my crime scene?”

Barry glares at her. “I’m a detective, Best, I’m allowed to be in the crime scene.”

“West,” she snaps back, adjusting her glasses. “And I’m the CSI, as you so happily shouted at everyone on the street. Unless you’d like to help me with blood collection and fingernail samples?”

“Ahem,” Lawton interjects, clearly sensing that Barry is about to make the situation much worse. “Detective Floriana Lawton, Allen’s partner. It’s nice to meet you, Dr. West.”

“You too,” she replies, flashing a smile at her, and Barry frowns. CSIs aren’t supposed to smile like that, like – like sunshine breaking through clouds, transforming her whole face. They’re supposed to be nerdy and awkward and nowhere near this beautiful. But she is, she’s beautiful. “Captain Nimbus said a lot of great things about you guys.”

“Thanks! And ignore him,” Lawton adds, shooting a glare at Barry, “he’s always grumpy in the mornings.”

“I am not.”

“You’re right. It’s not just the mornings.”

CSI West lets out a laugh and then a snort, before clapping a hand over her mouth, her cheeks going bright red. “Um. Sorry. You’re, um…You’re probably going to have to get used to that.”

“Oh my God,” Lawton says. “We are _totally_ keeping you, West.”

Barry ignores the feeling her laugh ignites in him and resists the urge to grumble. “Anything jump out at you, CSI West?”

“Well, I haven’t seen the video footage, but from the sounds of it, this man was walking in a northerly direction four feet from the front door. Looking at the way he fell and the placement of the glass, he was shot from five feet _inside_ the restaurant, the bullet hit him in the chest, stumble, twist, hand on heart, explaining the blood on the fingers. Then he fell.”

He stares at her in disbelief. “You got all that from looking at this scene for two minutes?”

“Yes,” she replies, like it should be obvious. “Would you like me to repeat it, Detective?”

“No thank you, Best.”

“ _West_.”

“Apologies.”

And Floriana looks between the two of them, glaring at each other with a mixture of irritation and something else, and realises that work just got a _lot_ more entertaining.

***

“…two white males, medium height and build, both wearing dark clothing,” Barry tells the room at CCPD later. Captain Kyla Nimbus, strong and severe in her pantsuit, regards him and Lawton as they give their presentation. Inexplicably, Barry keeps finding his eyes drawn to the new CSI – Dr. West, he remembers – even as he frowns at her. With the way her eyes are flickering around the room as he speaks, he’s sure she’s not paying any attention to what he’s saying – she’s the only one in the room not looking at him.

“We discovered that they took between twelve and twenty-four pieces of jewellery,” he continues. “A mixture of engagement rings, tennis bracelets, watches, and other items. We’ll be keeping an eye on our usual channels to see whether they pop up for sale on the black market.”

“The men apparently got into a black getaway car and we managed to get the plates down,” Lawton continues. “But since this looks like a pretty professional job, I’m not holding out much hope on that. Unfortunately, they were also wearing masks.”

“Maybe we can get them on DNA evidence?” the captain suggests. She straightens. “For those of you who weren’t here this morning, this is Dr. Iris West, our new CSI. Sorry you didn’t start work on a more cheerful note.”

Dr. West laughs along with everyone else as she walks up to them, carefully avoiding Barry as she passes. “Duty calls, I guess. I took samples of Mr. Larsen’s fingernails, blood, hair and skin, as well as the glass and fingerprints from the scene. It looks like the assailants were wearing gloves, which means that we probably won’t get them on DNA, but as Detective…”

“Allen,” he reminds her.

“Allen, yes,” she continues cheerfully, “told us, we’ll probably have to rely on watching the black market to catch them. If any of the fibres or hair samples I collected lead anywhere, I’ll let you all know.”

“All team, nice job,” the captain nods. “Back to work.”

Everyone drifts back to their desks and offices, some of them milling around CSI West to introduce themselves or talk about her discovery. Lawton turns to him, her hazel eyes shining. “So, she’s something, huh?”

“I don’t like her.”

“Are you serious? She is _adorable_. Did you see that giggle-snort she did? My God, I want to adopt her and make her my sister.”

Barry walks over to his desk. “The CSI who forgot how to get to one of the biggest streets in Central City and makes jokes over crime scenes?”

“No, the CSI with a doctorate on forensic science who figured out how a guy was killed from looking at windows and the way the guy fell. Besides, she spent a year in Oxford and they installed _three_ new monorails and two solar panels to go with each of them.”

Before Barry can answer, CSI West lets out an excited squeal from across the room, clapping her hands together as she explains something to everyone else. “Lawton, she spent the entire ride over here getting excited about particle physics. Who does that?”

“Which deity,” Lawton sighs, “did I piss off in a previous life? Why did Nimbus make me your partner?”

“I believe it was something to do with my superior marksmanship compensating for your non-existent marksmanship.”

“Or,” she suggests mildly, “it’s because you’re a jackass and I’m a ray of sunshine.”

Barry wrinkles his nose. “No, I think I was right. Besides, it’s…she’s not…I mean, she’s like an overexcited puppy. I don’t have time for all that chatter and excitability when we’re pursuing one of the most difficult cases of both our careers.”

“Puppies are cute,” she points out. “Besides, the Santini case isn’t going anywhere – you, Eddie and I have been pursuing it for a year. I think we could use a little excitability around here, given what all these damned mob wars are doing to this city. It almost makes me miss all the metahumans.”

Lawton’s got a point, Barry has to admit. The case against the Santini crime family, one of the biggest in Central City, has been in court for six months, and Barry and his partner were the ones who brought it to Eddie Thawne. However, as is normal when you’ve got a case against a crime family, it’s a lot easier said than done. As Assistant State’s Attorney, Eddie is valiantly arguing the case, but with people reluctant to speak out against them and the mob being so good at covering their tracks, the three of them have had an uphill battle. “I hear you,” he says quietly. Lawton, knowing what talking about this case does to him, squeezes his shoulder. “Look, I’ll take care of this, and then we can get ready for our last interview tomorrow. What’s her name?”

“Hannah Bates,” he replies. He’s memorised this case back to front, after all. “Said she saw some stuff that could place Bobby Santini somewhere he shouldn’t be.”

“Sounds good. And are you sure there isn’t another reason you don’t like Dr. West?”

He frowns at her. “What other reason would there be?”

“Just that she’s…” Lawton looks up, and her eyes widen. “Oh, heads up.”

Barry turns around, and CSI West is smiling at them. Well, she’s smiling at Lawton. She just sort of nods at him. “The body went to the morgue,” she tells them, “and I’ll have to see the coroner’s report and make a copy before I can hand mine in. Then I’ll have it to you by the end of tomorrow.”

“Ew, coroners,” Lawton shudders. “How are you not creeped out by them?”

“Actually, the work coroners to is inherently fascinating,” Iris says, taking off her glasses to clean them. “There have been many cases where someone has been declared dead by occupational disease, when you actually find that they were poisoned. When Annie Chapman was killed by Jack the Ripper, for example, many experts concluded that she died from having her throat cut and her intestines removed, not realising that…I am talking to my new colleagues about intestines,” she says slowly, embarrassed. “Sorry.”

Lawton puts a hand over her mouth but her smile is still visible through her fingers, Barry tries not to roll his eyes. “Just make sure you remember, West,” he tells her. “I know how forgetful you can be.”

Barry smirks when he realises that she’s trying not to make a face at him. “Anything for you, detective,” she says sarcastically. Before either of them can repeat it, someone interrupts them. “Allen?”

“What do you need, Souci?”

The red-haired officer hands him some pictures. “Security took these of some people we’re looking into-”

“Armenian mob,” Barry replies, barely looking at the picture. Everyone just looks at him and he shrugs. “They’re outside the old cigarette factory, which is where they operate. Groups of five, surrounded by bullet-proof jeeps and in suits, because they deal in white collar crime. And if that’s not enough, your bodyguard on the right has ‘XIII’ on his right hand, which is a rookie mistake that will probably get him an asskicking if he doesn’t learn to keep his hands covered when he’s out. That sign means Armenian Mob.”

Officer Souci laughs. “You’re a card, Allen, I tell ya!”

“Just doing my job, Ben.”

“You barely even looked at that!” Iris says, after Office Souci has thanked him and walked off. “You ID’d those guys based on a tattoo?”

“Yes,” he says bluntly. “Would you like me to explain it again, Dr. West?”

“No, thank you,” she says primly. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a report to write.”

Barry, in spite of himself, watches her leave, until Lawton elbows him. “Sorry,” he says quickly.

“Yeah, I bet you are. I have to go talk to the Captain. I’ll be back in a few and we can go over the questions.”

After she leaves, he dismisses his partner’s thoughts. The new CSI may be good at her job, fine, but she’s also way too chatty and excitable. Barry has never been good around those people, and _that’s_ why he doesn’t like her. It has nothing to do with how pretty she is, especially in those damn glasses, and that hair flip that she does is kind of distracting. But if she isn’t the biggest nerd on the entire planet, he’ll eat his suspenders. _All_ of his suspenders.

Iris, for her part, takes one look at Detective Bartholomew Allen before she walks up to her lab and mutters, “Jackass.”

Barry, also thinking of her as she leaves, mutters, “Nerd.”

***

Which is what leads Iris to dramatically declare, when she’s finished describing her day to her best friend, “I hate him.”

“He can’t be that bad.”

“He _is_ ,” Iris insists. She dumps her pizza slice back in the box and pokes Linda with her foot as they sit on the couch. “He’s all smug and condescending and an _asshole_. You were right, this is going to suck.”

“You know, as much as I enjoy being right, I refuse to believe anyone could not love you on sight,” Linda tells her. “You’re like pudding. Everybody likes pudding.”

Iris studies her green-painted fingernails. The day had started pretty well (once she remembered her lunch). She made it to work on time, met the captain and the senior detective she interviewed with, and saw her lab…for about five minutes before she was called to go to a crime scene. And since the transport system had undergone some pretty radical changes in the year that she’d been away (thank you, Central City Transit!), it took her twice as long to remember how to get there. So, she finally gets there, and someone is yelling about where the CSI is. Having dealt with dissertation committees, thesis advisors, and the like, she thought she was prepared for a detective that was a little ticked off that she was late. But then he looked at her.

And she couldn’t _breathe_.

One of the things – one of the _many_ things – that Iris has decided that she Does Not Like about Detective Bartholomew Allen is how stupidly pretty he is. She wishes he wasn’t. She wishes he was like one of those grizzly, old detectives with a smoking habit and bad hair and a five o’clock shadow like the ones from novels her dad likes to read. But he isn’t, he’s tall and pretty and she really, really hates it. Thick, long lashes frame pretty green eyes that shine gold in the September sun, with a face that dimples when he smiles (a grand total of once over the whole day…and she totally wasn’t watching) and brown hair combed neatly in a side parting. And even though she loves today’s fashion, she’s never understood the fascination with men wearing suspenders. She’s always thought they looked good because she’s never known anything else.

But then she saw them on Bartholomew, on his stupidly long body and broad shoulders and muscled arms and suddenly she feels like they were invented specifically for him. She also got this ridiculous urge to put a bowtie on him, as well. A red one, though she had no idea why. And then he’d spent the whole morning snapping at her, making her snap back. By the time the morning was over, she didn’t think she’d ever met a bigger asshole. A pretty one, but still. _Asshole_. And the only thing that was making her feel better about not liking a colleague on sight is that she knows he can’t stand her either.

“Not Bartholomew,” she disagrees. “Which would be fine, except I’m the only CSI in the department, and we have to work together all the time.”

“All the time?”

“Linda, he’s brilliant. The only reason he’s not a senior detective yet is because he’s our age – he’s too young. If he’s not involved in a case, people are asking his opinion on it, and he gives it without even looking up. _Ugh_.” She buries her head in her pillow, trying to get his stupid, smug, pretty face out of her head.

“Come on, Bambi Eyes,” her friend assures her. “Don’t let this guy ruin this for you, you’ve been excited about this job for weeks. You’re basically running your own department, and you get your own cento- centi-”

“Centrifuge,” she smiles fondly. She rubs her eyes behind her glasses. “Yeah, I guess.”

“And you’ve dealt with assholes before, right? Remember your ex-boyfriend? Remember…”

“ _Brad_ ,” they say together in disgust. Iris sighs. “You’re right, I guess.”

“Of course I am. Oh!” she snaps her fingers. “I forgot to tell you, your mom called.”

“Let me guess,” Iris says, “dad has to cancel lunch tomorrow.”

“He says he’s sorry!” Linda tells her. “There’s some sort of major surgery going on, and…”

“It’s cool,” she shrugs. That’s what happens when your dad is chief of surgery at Central City Memorial. “Are you busy for lunch tomorrow?”

“Yeah, Wally promised he was going to tear himself away from the hospital so I can see my boyfriend,” Linda tells her. “He is being so weird lately, you have any idea why that is?”

“None,” she shrugs, which is a lie. Her cousin is being weird because he’s planning to propose to her best friend – last week, he took her ring shopping, and now he’s just waiting for the right moment. “But I guess I’m getting lunch with Ronnie and Dr. Snow tomorrow,” she continues. “Dr. Wells wanted to show me something anyway.”

“You know, I’m actually a little frightened to find out what’s going to happen when the Particle Accelerator goes off,” Linda says, going for more pizza. “All of you nerds are going to be wandering around in the street all lost.”

“Shut up!” Iris giggles, snorting uncontrollably. “Look, the Particle Accelerator is going to-”

“-change everything we know about physics. And guarantee a Beyoncé album every two years for the next decade. And erase the memory of Justin Timberlake’s noodle hair from our existence.”

“Oh, but when you wake me up in the middle of the night to recite Steph Curry’s life story to me, that’s totally normal?”

“Whatever,” her friend laughs.  “All I’m saying is, you worked really hard on this, you’ve been in school for practically a decade, and you shouldn’t let some hotshot detective ruin this for you. If that’s…”

“If it’s what?”

“I mean, you said he was hot, right?”

“He is,” she says immediately, before she can stop herself. But she takes another swig of her beer. “But he’s a total asshole.”

Linda, watching her friend with knowing eyes as colour blooms in her cheeks, nods. “Right.”

***

The next day sees Iris striding through Central City towards the coroner’s office, which is located on the same land as the town hall. She gets the feeling that the report will say that Tommy Larsen died of a bullet wound to the chest, probably because of blood loss and shock. To her father and Wally’s eternal irritation, she gets all of her medical knowledge from Grey’s Anatomy, even though they keep swearing up and down that nothing is that dramatic and most of the medical diagnoses are wrong. Still, it’s not a complicated case, and then she can start helping with the backlog as well as deal with cases as they come in. Thankfully, as Lawton told her this morning, she and Detective Allen are dealing with a case that won’t require too much of her help.

Iris slips into the town hall and makes her way through to the coroner’s office. “CSI Iris West from Central City Police Department,” she tells the receptionist, showing her badge. “I need the coroner’s report from the murder of Thomas Nathaniel Larsen, please?”

“Yes, I was told you were coming,” she replies. She hands her a file with some loose papers on the front. “The report is on the front, then all the science stuff is in the file.”

“Not a problem for me, science stuff is what I do,” she laughs. Iris turns, ready to head back out again, and bumps straight into someone walking quickly out of a side door. Papers fly everywhere and she looks down to see a woman scrambling to pick them up. “Oh God,” Iris apologises. “I am _so_ sorry, I should have been looking, here, let me help…”

“It’s okay,” she laughs. “The amount of papers I was carrying, that was bound to happen at least once.”

They gather their things up and make sure they’ve got the right ones. “Well, I hope that this is the first and only time this happens to you…” Iris peers at the woman’s name tag. “…Fowsia James. You work for the city?”

“Yeah,” she replies, slipping the files into her bag. “Housing and services – saving the world, one apartment inspection at a time.”

Iris laughs, handing the papers back, and her eyes skim over some of the pages. “Who says you need powers and a leather suit to help people?”

“That’s what I always say!” Fowsia smiles and thanks her, before walking out of the building. As usual, some of the words on the page stay with Iris. She’s always had a photographic memory, and while it’s been useful for studying, she _really_ doesn’t need to know why Toni Woodward filed a complaint about faulty ceiling tiles. Iris checks her phone, makes sure she has enough time for lunch with Colin and Ronnie before heading back to the precinct. STAR Labs is on the west side of town, all by itself in a dome of steel. She slips through the crowds of people that are here on visits and the scientists and technicians as they go about their business, and walks up to the front desk. “Morning, Hattie,” she says pleasantly to Hattie Hewitt, who’s receiving some mail. “Busy day?”

“Well, with all these kids running around, it’s kind of hard to concentrate,” she says, smiling. “But it’s all for a good cause, right? How are you loving being back in the city?”

“It’s great! Having a little trouble navigating all the changes, though.”

“Yeah, but Mayor Snart did warn us,” she says. “You’ll get used to them, it just takes a couple of times getting lost.”

“Don’t I know it,” she mutters. Hattie squeezes her shoulder. “I have to get down to the containment centre, but I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Sure.” Hattie leaves and Iris leans against one of the railings, looking down into the lower levels. STAR Labs is a vast building, with the middle containing the Particle Accelerator and the surrounding sections housing research labs, technical labs, and various libraries. She used to come here in the summers while in college, and volunteered here at eighteen when STAR Labs first opened. And now it’ll be opening soon, and she’s back just in time to see it.

“Iris West,” a voice says. She turns around, and there’s a beautiful, sharply-dressed woman with raven hair and intelligent blue eyes smiling at her. “It’s good to see you walking these halls again.”

Iris grins and walks up to her, before wrapping her arms around her in a warm hug. “It’s really good to see you, Dr. Wells.”

“You too. Although you’re lucky they let you in the building after you ran off to get a PhD and then went to work for the police instead of me.”

Iris laughs and lets her go, and they walk towards her office. “You don’t think you have enough doctors running around this place?”

“Way too many,” she says in a grave voice. “I’m joking, of course. You were always one for helping people over anything else, Iris.” She comes to a stop outside the Cortex and presses the code to open it up. “That doesn’t mean I’m not jealous.”

“No need to be jealous, Dr. Wells. I can still come here on the weekends to blow up your equipment.”

“Iris!” Ronnie Raymond, a petite woman with dark brown hair and twirling a wrench between her hands, gets up from her workbench and throws her arms around. “Hi, Ronnie,” she laughs. “How are you? And where’s our Dr. Snow?”

“My fiancé is busy with his hormone interactions and other boring nonsense like that,” she says dismissively. “But we can still have lunch right here. If that’s okay, Dr. Wells?”

She waves a hand and sits at her large desk, which is situated behind several television screens and clocks showing times from all over the world. It’s been a while since Iris has been in here, but there are still some things that are the same. There’s still the different workrooms through glass doors, the back wall with the various books and studies crammed into shelves, and the pictures of Terrence and Jesse, Dr. Wells’ husband and nephew, all over her desk. “Of course you can. I’ll be glad of conversation that doesn’t consist of people discussing the heating benefits of tungsten.”

“So, Dr. West,” Ronnie grins as they sit down. “How life as CCPD’s newest CSI? Having fun?”

“Well, it’s only the second day, but it’s pretty good. Got my first assignment today, which is analysing coroner’s reports. My favourite.”

“Dude, you signed up for it. Hey, do you know anything about that murder that happened on Spring Street yesterday?”

“Yes,” she replies. “And no, I’m not going to tell you about it, so stop looking at me like that. It’s confidential.”

“Since when, Miss Blabbermouth?”

“Hey, I can’t lose my job because you’re nosy. A girl’s gotta eat. What about you, how are things?”

“Same old, same old. Colin and the other doctors are really excited about some sort of new gene that could become activated one the Particle Accelerator turns on and now none of them will leave the basement.” She pauses. “Plus we’re still looking for a new structural engineer, since the last one…you know.”

Iris nods sympathetically. She had only met Francesca Ramon once, while she was here on Christmas vacation, but she knew that Ronnie loved working with her. It came as a shock when she left out of the blue, barely giving a reason other than she felt that she had to move on.

“Anyway, everything’s looking good,” she continues. “We’ve finally managed to convince the city that we aren’t going to blow a crater in the sky.”

“Right, Linda was telling me about that,” she says, popping a cherry tomato in her mouth. She turns to Dr. Wells. “Are people really that concerned about the Particle Accelerator?”

The older woman removes her glasses, sighing. “Unfortunately, despite my efforts to assure them otherwise. This happens whenever someone opens a facility with a particle accelerator – the same thing happened to the one in Michigan in the eighties. Unfortunately, that created Victoria Stone – Cyborg – and killed her parents. It’s not unusual of that people would want to prevent that in their own city.” She smiles. “But rest assured, I am doing everything I can to prevent any damage. I have the best workers, the best ideas, the best materials. I have complete faith in us.”

“We are changing the way we think about physics,” Ronnie says proudly. “What could go wrong?”

***

Barry tries to remain calm as he studies the woman in front of him, but it’s hard. Not just because the diner is loud with waiters taking and delivering orders, or because the woman’s children are noisily eating food at the next table and keep diverting her attention away from him. But because Hannah Bates is his last witness, they’ve been chasing this lead for months, and she’s just told him she’s backing out.

“Mrs. Bates – Hannah,” he says, trying not to sound too distressed. “I’ve told you, there’s nothing to worry about-”

“I know not even you believe that, Detective Allen,” she interrupts. She shrugs, gesturing for her oldest daughter to sit down and eat her food. “I was already on the fence about this, and I’m not sure I want to put my family in danger…”

“But we told you, we can help with that,” he promises. “We can put a guard on your house, and Mr. Thawne has said that once you become a witness we’re authorised to use whatever is available to keep you and your family safe.”

“And you also told me that I was free to back out whenever I wanted, and I want to now.”

“Hannah, please,” he says. “A month ago you wanted to put Bobby Santini away as much as I did, and now you’re changing your mind? What happened?”

“We both know what happens with that family, detective. I don’t even know why I agreed to it in the first place – maybe it was some romantic notion of justice, I don’t know.” She shrugs. “But I don’t want to risk my family. I’m sorry.”

Barry resists the urge to scream. It took weeks, between him, Lawton _and_ Eddie get enough evidence to put Bobby Santini within the vicinity of the murder scene of an elected official, Michaela Rory, who was going to clamp down on their influences on downtown businesses. Hannah had worked as a cleaner for a party where he was. Now, without a witness placing him there at the correct time, it was purely circumstantial evidence. His lawyers could argue their way out of that, and he’s been in enough courtrooms to see how they could do exactly that.

“Mom!” one of her kids says. “Can I have more mac and cheese?”

“In a minute, honey,” she says, and she gives Barry an apologetic look. “Sorry. Our stove has been out for a week, and the kids really miss mac and cheese. This is the only place I can get it where they’ll actually eat it.”

“Can’t blame them, mac and cheese is my favourite,” he smiles ruefully. Then he sighs. “Hannah, I understand that you might be apprehensive about this, but could you promise not to rule it out completely? That’ll you’ll consider changing your mind?”

Hannah looks at him for a moment, before nodding. “I will.”

“You live in Baldwin Towers, right? I might have some pull with housing to get your stove fixed – they work out of the town hall.”

“No,” she says quickly, and Barry peers at her. She pushes her hair out of her face, before smiling. “No, that’s alright. The building manager actually came through with this one, we didn’t have to call the housing services. We’re getting a new one.”

Barry wishes her goodbye, disappointment crushing him as he makes his way back to the precinct. Of all the witnesses they turned in the last few months, Hannah Bates was the most important, and now they can’t use her. Eddie has others and more evidence, but he’s had enough experience with cases, has testified in enough trials, to know that they were losing and it was close to getting dismissed unless they could pull off some sort of Hail Mary pass. This is always the worst part of his job, when justice is there, right in front of him, but just out of his reach, enough to drive him up a wall.

Lawton is waiting for him at his desk, her eyes trained on the captain’s door. Barry raises his eyebrows when he hears all the yelling that’s going on in there. Everyone else is trying to pretend like they aren’t listening, but it’s kind of difficult. “Who’s getting their ass kicked?”

“The asshole who shot Tommy Larsen,” she mutters back. She juts her chin towards the door. “That’s Detective Dinah Lance in there.”

“Star City?” he asks in surprise. She looks at him.

“Didn’t you go to college with her kids?”

“Yeah, Laurent and Sam. What does she have to do with Tommy Larsen?”

“He was her witness in a case, apparently.”

“Which case?”

“Classified.”

“Figures,” he mutters. He sits down at his desk, his head in his hands. “We lost her.”

“Shit, you’re kidding. Bates? She was our biggest one!”

“I know. But she got freaked and honestly, Lawton, I don’t blame her. You’ve seen what they’re capable of – racketeering, bribery, contract killings. I just thought we’d be able to keep one.”

She sighs. “We need to tell Thawne. Want me to swing by the State’s Attorney’s office?”

“Nah, I’m getting a drink with him tonight. I’ll tell him. He’s not going to take losing Hannah Bates well, I’ll tell ya right now.”

“I’m sorry,” a voice says from behind Lawton. “Did you say Hannah Bates?”

Barry narrows his eyes when he sees Dr. West looking at them, a curious look in her pretty brown eyes and a file in her hands. He notices that she’s wearing pearls that complement her skin, and then curses himself for noticing. “Yes. What’s it to you, West?”

“Who lives at Baldwin Towers?”

“I believe so, why?”

She glances down at her file. “Oh, no reason. I just think I’ve heard of her before. I’m, um, sorry you lost your witness.”

He shrugs. “It happens. You got that coroner’s report for me yet? Or is it getting in the way of you stalking my witnesses?”

“Didn’t I say I’d do anything for you, detective?” she says sardonically. She turns to Lawton. “So, is this Friday okay?”

“Friday is perfect.”

West nods and walks off without a word, though not before she gives him one last glance. “If you find glass in the Christmas cookies,” Lawton says, “don’t be surprised.”

“Why in the hell would she want to know about Hannah Bates? And what are you doing with her on Friday?”

“Curiosity? Besides, she’s not used to your assholery. Give her a week or two, geez. And what we’re doing together is none of your business.” She slides off the desk. “Now that you’ve deigned to return from lunch, we have a building fire with our name on it.”

***

Iris finds a notepad the minute she gets back to her office and scribbles everything she remembered from bumping into Fowsia James at the town hall immediately. This skill came in handy when she was studying for her mid-terms – the ability to simply glance at a page and remember large swathes of information. Of course, she had to learn how to write papers because simply _knowing_ the signs of petechaie means nothing when you can’t talk about how that could lead to a concrete cause of death. But now, brain kicked into overdrive when she heard Detective Allen mention Hannah Bates, she’s remembering everything she saw, almost as if something is telling her that it’s important. When she finishes, she stares at what she has.

Iris frowns. It’s just a list of people and complaints of things going wrong in their apartments. The Baldwin Group own apartments and condos in Star City, Coast City and Central City, but all of them are partly-managed by the city council. That means that the first point of call for things breaking or needing replacing is the people who own the building, but if it gets too far, they go to the city-appointed housing services, like where Fowsia worked. Hannah Bates, according to this list, complained about a broken stove a week ago, meaning she and her kids were limited in what they could eat. Bertram Larvan has bedbugs. Danielle Black and her husband, and older couple, have a broken boiler. She scans down the list of things she wrote, hardly able to believe her brain remembers such useless facts, when her eyes alight on one name.

 _Thomas Larsen – carpet replacement_.

It’s dated from three days ago, she notices. Two days before he died. Her heart starts beating fast. It’s chilling, that he would be doing something so normal before being killed so randomly in the street, but none of this means anything – apart from the fact that that the people who own Baldwin Towers are sinfully shitty at maintaining their own buildings. She sets down the piece of paper and settles down to look through the coroner’s report, meticulously noting everything down. She nods to herself; everything is consistent with what she found. Thomas Larsen was killed by a bullet wound to the chest, causing damage to a major artery and severe blood loss that compromised his breathing.

Iris gives a cursory glance to the additional notes as she signs and dates her own reports, so she can get it to the asshole that lives downstairs. She’d been hoping that maybe they’d gotten off on the wrong foot, since she was late and Detective Allen was obviously stressed, but nope. Her only consolation is that he seems to treat everyone the same way, with a sort of gruff impatience that Iris knows comes from a desire to be the best at his job and not take no for an answer. She kind of wishes he was bad at his job so she could begrudge him that.

(Iris also wishes his hair didn’t look so damn soft, too. But no one needs to know that).

She blinks, and then leans closer to the paper in front of her. _Victim had copious amounts of carcinogens (type: nitrosamine) in his lungs at the time of death, consistent with that of a heavy smoker. However, fingernail and blood analysis have concluded that he is not a smoker. It is likely that someone with whom he spent a large amount of time was a smoker instead_.

The pictures and blood analysis included with the report confirm it – there are no nicotine stains on his fingernails, his fingers aren’t discoloured, and there’s no nicotine in his blood. But Iris was around while they were interviewing Larsen’s wife – she wasn’t a smoker, and her three young kids definitely weren’t, either. And, really, unless Larsen was literally swallowing a pack a day, nothing would explain the level of nitrosamines in his lungs.

Iris looks at her notes again, and concludes that she is getting a very, _very_ bad idea.

***

Jitterbugs is lively when Barry gets there, with people swanning around in their dresses and suits and bowties, dripping in pearls with clouds of perfume floating off them. The doorman nods at him and lets him in without a word, which is unsurprising since his mother owns the place. Once inside, he slips easily between the waiters and waitresses in their golden waistcoats for the men and skirts for the women, makes his way to the bar, and taps the shoulder of the man who’s already halfway through his scotch.

“Detective Allen,” Eddie Thawne grins. He gestures to the bartender to get a drink for Barry. A few feet away, the pianist plays something while a singer croons softly at the crowd, her features barely visible because of the low lighting. “How’s tricks?”

“Same old, same old,” he shrugs. “How’s life at the District Attorney’s office, ASA Pretty Boy?”

“See, this is why I don’t tell you stuff. You and Mal have never been able to let that go.”

“Come on, it’s right there. And you’re just so _pretty_ , ASA Thawne. Golly gee, I hope you don’t notice me blushing.”

“Asshole,” he mutters, but he’s laughing. “Well, I’m as busy as always and it’s not like the mob is going anyway any time soon. But hey, at least we’re not Star City. Or Gotham.”

Barry shudders at that particular thought and then sips his drink when it arrives, letting the warm liquid burn his throat. “Got that right.”

“Okay, so what’s the bad news?”

“How do you know there’s bad news?”

“Barry, please. We’ve known each other forever, I was at your graduation _and_ your sister’s, and I was there when you got sworn into the academy. I know when you want to give me bad news.”

Barry winces, but he’s right. Eddie does know him pretty well. “We…lost Hannah Bates.”

Eddie curses. “You’re kidding! She was our best witness!”

“I know. How’s the case going?”

“Well, we’re due back in court this week, but I swear to God, Barry, these people wriggle out of every charge we give them. Witnesses refuse to testify, or evidence disappears, or…” He takes another swig of his drink. “Tell Mal to become a mob lawyer, apparently, your success rate is a lot higher.”

“Yeah, and then I’ll give my mom a knife so she can stab me,” Barry says sarcastically. “Look, I’m going to try to get some of the old witnesses back on track and look up some old avenues.”

Eddie sighs. “I appreciate this, Barry, but if I’m being honest, I’m seeing this trail headed for acquittal. Bobby Santini has a great lawyer, we’ve got shaky circumstantial evidence, and without a witness, this whole thing could fall apart any minute.”

Barry rubs his face in frustration. That’s one of the good things about being friends with Eddie, that he feels it too, this urgent need to find justice whatever the cost. Maybe it’s something to do with them having dead fathers who fought for the same thing – Barry’s dad had worked for the FBI, and Eddie’s dad was a firefighter who died in the Towers – but neither of them have been able to let these cases go.

“Eh, who knows,” Eddie says, “maybe we’ll get a miracle. Hey, guess who I ran into?”

“Who?”

“I’ll give you a hint: when she saw me, I started looking for an escape route.”

Barry blinks. “Shit, I thought she moved.”

“Believe me, we all did,” Eddie grimaces. “I mean, I was trying to get coffee. Do you have any idea what a downer it is in the morning to want to get a cappuccino and run into Becky Cooper?”

Barry downs his drink as he thinks of his ex. Becky was…problematic at best. Malina, though, called her ‘more batshit insane than Batgirl herself’, which he supposed he could see as well. He’d liked her a lot at first, something that hadn’t happened to him since college, but that soon soured when Becky turned out to be nightmare. Controlling who he saw, trying to move in after three months, jealous of his female partner (‘Which, ew, Allen, like I’d want you anyway’) nightmare. “Yeah, I guess I kind of dodged a bullet there, huh?”

“You didn’t dodge a bullet, you survived it. I told you not to date her, Lawton told you not to date her, both Queens _and_ both Lances told you not to date her…Seriously, I’m surprised she didn’t take a lighter to your clothes.”

“Don’t put that out in the universe,” he mutters, and Eddie laughs.

“Thinking of dating anyone new?”

Barry shrugs. When he graduated from the academy, his focus had been on breezing through his beat cop duties so he could work his way up to intelligence. He’d only ended up dating Becky after she pursued him, and before that he hadn’t dated anyone since college. But he’s never really been one for dating, even monogamously – even though Becky was as high-maintenance as everyone said, she was right that he was terrible at relationships. He put work above everything else and didn’t have enough patience to fit in a thimble.

“Not really,” he replies finally. “Too busy with this case.”

“Well, you can’t give up your life for cases forever, Barry. What about work, is there anyone there you might be interested in?”

Dr. West’s face, smiling at something that Lawton said to her (she never smiles at him), pops into his head at Eddie’s words, and he tries to ignore how distracting it is. This morning she spent the entire staff meeting looking like she wasn’t paying any attention, and then proceeded to recite practically everything the captain had said from memory. When one of the other detectives compared her to one of the characters from _The Big Bang Theory_ and everyone started laughing, she let out that giggle-snort again. And it’s not adorable, Barry admonishes himself, when he thinks of the way her nose screwed up. It’s not.

“Nope,” he replies. “No one at all.”

The next day, however, Barry is sitting at his desk getting on with some reports when someone appears at his desk. “Detective Allen?”

“Huh – damn it, West,” he frowns, once he’s gotten over the shock of seeing her appear at his desk so suddenly. “Do you come with a bell?”

“Do you come with a warning?” she shoots back. He makes a noncommittal noise and folds his arms.

“Can I help you with something?”

“I have the report you so politely demanded of me when I was trying to get coffee this morning,” she replies, handing it back. “I put a copy of the coroner’s report in there as well, confirming that he died of a gunshot wound to the chest, and I got you some fibres from the bullet wound in case it would help you find out who shot him.”

“That’s good,” he nods firmly. “Thanks, Dr. West.”

“You’re welcome, Detective Allen.”

Barry goes back to work, but then notices that she isn’t leaving, instead studying him with those pretty brown eyes of hers. “Anything else, Dr. West?”

“Your case,” she says carefully. “About the Santini family.”

“What about it?”

“Could you explain it to me?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Thinking of joining Intelligence?”

She lets out a breath. “Humour me,” she grinds out.

“Alright. The Santinis are a pretty new mob family that popped up in the last ten years or so with the usual tricks – making people pay for protection, gambling rings, illegal betting, and corruption. About a year, ago a councilwoman was killed at a party. Her name was Michaela Rory, and she was going to make it easier for local business to get protections against gangs. But then she goes to this party and ends up getting shot.”

Iris’ eyes widen. “But surely the first suspect would be the guy who’s involved in the mob. And weren’t there any cameras?”

“If we had cameras our lives would be a lot easier, but they were blown before she was killed. Besides, the Santinis aren’t even the only people who wanted that woman harmed. Between Stagg Industries being denied their permit to break new ground for more research facilities, the Darbynian crime family trying to muscle their way in, and the Rogues running around causing trouble again, it’s no small wonder that Mayor Snart walks around with protection.”

“So you’re trying to get him on trial for murder?”

“Yes and no,” he admits. “He _is_ on trial for the murder, but we’re still hoping for something bigger. Eddie’s plan was to get him on the hook so we’d be able to make him a plea deal for information on something else, something to help with a bigger case against the whole family, or at the very least get Bobby in prison and then put the screws on him in there. Bobby’s the golden boy, so taking him out would be a huge blow to them, but he’s also kind of a hothead. Sorta like Sonny Corleone from _The Godfather_.”

“And you’re not worried you’ll end up sleeping with the fishes?” she asks.

He tries not to laugh at that joke, because it’s corny and dumb, and he succeeds – barely. But he manages to keep his voice steady when he says, “I’m a big boy, Dr. West. I can handle myself.”

“I’m sure you can, detective.”

There’s something in the way she says that, ‘detective’ – well, it’s just a word, but not the way she says it. Or maybe it’s her eyes and the way she’s looking at him, they’re probably the most arresting eyes he’s ever seen on a person… _Get a goddamn grip, Allen_. He clears his throat, trying for the business-like tone he uses at work. “Did that satisfy your curiosity?”

“It did, actually, and I was wondering if I could ask you something. Have you considered that the Santinis might be engaging in witness tampering?”

He laughs. “Of course we have, Dr. West. Lawton got guards on all of them before they could blink, but half the time it doesn’t matter. People still get scared.”

“No,” she disagrees. “Did you know that the Santinis own a stake in Baldwin Towers?”

“I didn’t, but that’s not unusual,” he shrugs. “Lots of people do. I think my mom owns a stake in that place.”

“Not as big as the one the Santinis own.” She pulls the report out of his hands and their fingers brush, sending a jolt of electricity through his hand. “Um, sorry. Ahem, so I was at the town hall and I bumped into the housing and services worker who’s in charge of Baldwin Towers, and I kind of got a look at the list of people who had building complaints, and a couple of the names were Hannah Bates and Tommy Larsen.”

Barry considers this for a moment. “So?”

She adjusts her glasses. “Well, don’t you think it’s weird that someone involved in a case with Detective Lance and another person involved in a case with you are both housed in a place that’s owned by the Santini family? And they both had building complaints”

“I don’t know what Detective Lance wanted with Larsen-”

“Detective Dinah Lance, in the past two years, has taken part in twelve cases involving organised crime, with seven of those having to do with mob families. Four further cases were political corruption, and another eight were crimes involving first- or second-degree murder,” Iris interrupts. “I think I can guess that she wasn’t using Tommy to prove someone had a parking violation.” At his stunned look, she adjusts her glasses self-consciously. “I read some stuff before I came to talk to you. And I-”

“Have a photographic memory, yes, I know.” He sighs. “Look, Dr. West, those are just coincidences. Central City isn’t a small city, but it’s certainly no Metropolis. Just because those people are housed in that building, doesn’t mean they have anything to do with the Santinis. They own a lot of the businesses in the city, and it’s not like Baldwin Towers is the Ritz.”

“Oh.” Dr. West looks down at the file in her hands, before shrugging. “Well, it was just a theory. You are the detective, after all.”

“Right.” It’s at this moment that Barry feels an urge to comfort her and tell her that he couldn’t count the times that he’d gone to a superior with a theory that turned out to be nothing. But that’s ridiculous, he doesn’t need to do that, no matter how wide her eyes are behind her glasses. He clears his throat and starts to open the file. “Will that be all?”

Dr. West, to her credit, is used to his abrupt change in tone, and simply lets out an exasperated breath through her nose. “Yes, Detective Allen. That’ll be all.”

***

Iris settles into CCPD very well in the weeks that pass, and into her new-old life in Central City quickly as well. Captain Nimbus is tough but fair, and the vast majority of the officers in the precinct treat her with respect and kindness, even though there is the odd comment about her intellect and complete obsession with string theory. She gets into a rhythm where she gets lunch with Linda on Fridays and goes out for drinks later with Lawton and some of the others from the precinct. The cases come thick and fast, especially because she’s the only CSI on the premises. There’s also the fact that, because of her extensive education, she’s often called to give her take on something or point another lab in the right direction.

She can’t quite let the Larsen case go, though. She simply finds it odd that Hannah Bates would give up on a case the day after Tommy Larsen died, especially when it was clear that Tommy was a witness in Lance’s case, probably an organised crime one. Even Lawton explained that Hannah probably got scared. Tommy died in a robbery gone wrong. The only thing Iris had was the niggling memory that they’d both filed for complaints to fix something in their apartments, but that was such a ridiculously tenuous link she has no idea how Detective Allen didn’t laugh at her.

“Dr. West?”

Iris looks up from her desk to see his partner standing in the door. “Hi, Lawton,” she says pleasantly. “Anything I can help you with?”

“Allen and I are heading out to the scene of a car accident, you free?” she says. Iris nods and starts to gather up her gear and shut down all her experiments. She’s noticed that Detective Allen never comes up here to get her, and he mostly ignores her unless he absolutely can’t. She doesn’t have a problem with this, since nine times out of then the conversations she has with him end with her wanting to punch him. Iris just wishes he’d gotten less handsome than when she first met him, but no such luck.

“So how are you liking CCPD?” Lawton asks as they walk down the stairs.

“I’ve wanted to work here since I was a kid,” Iris admits. “Which is dumb, I know. Most people don’t dream of working in the police station they grew up walking past.”

“This girl did. I wanted to be a Powerpuff Girl when I was younger, and the closest thing I got to that was fighting crime.”

Iris appraises her. “You’d make a great Powerpuff Girl.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

They laugh together as they reach the ground floor. Detective Allen is waiting by the doors, chatting with one of the cops and actually smiling for once. “Hey, how’s your case going?” Iris asks casually, glad Linda isn’t here to point out that her tone is anything but casual. “The one you’re working on with the District Attorney’s office.”

“Not good,” Lawton sighs. “Eddie thinks we’re headed for acquittal, and Allen is losing his mind. This case means a lot to him.”

Iris never considered that, that it means more than a pay check to Detective Allen. Most people would have given up on this by now, especially with the mob involved, but she knows from the other cops that he’s been on this for months. So, in that moment and the quiet of her conversation with Lawton, Iris decides that she’s going to keep looking into it all by herself. And it isn’t because she wants to know what it would be like to impress him or make him smile. It’s because she wants justice for whoever was wronged by the Santinis. That’s her job, after all. She sees Detective Allen as they approach the exit, talking to one of the others. Before she gets distracted by the sight of the smile that crinkles his eyes, she goes to make sure she has everything.

“Shoot,” she says. “I forgot my hair scrunchie.” She can’t go out to a crime scene with her tresses hanging everywhere. But Lawton is digging in her pockets. “I always carry a spare, don’t worry.”

“Thanks.” Iris shifts her gear to her back and very carefully twists her hair into a ponytail so it won’t get in the way, brushing it away from her shoulders. When she looks up, Detective Allen is watching her, his mouth hanging open slightly as his gaze rests on the hollow of her throat. Upon realising he’s been caught, he clears his throat and looks away from her.

Iris is most definitely too pleased about that for the rest of the day.

***

When Barry walks into Jitterbugs in the delicate time between day crowd of people and those gearing up for dinner and a show, a severely unimpressed voice greets him. “Oh, so _now_ you remember you have a mother.”

Barry grins. Looking at them, most people would assume that the only thing she gave her son was her green eyes, but they also share their wry sense of humour. She comes out of the kitchen, radiant in a dark blue dress with sequins, ready for her evening hosting everything, and shakes her head at him. “Eddie Thawne visits me more than you.”

“Hi, mom.”

“I could have a whole new kid and you wouldn’t know.”

“You look lovely today.”

“Are you sure you even recognise me?”

Barry just laughs and hugs her, and she rubs his back. “I missed you, my beautiful boy.” She leans back and studies him. “You look tired. And you’re not eating.”

“I’m eating, mom,” he says, but she shakes her head, leading him to their usual table. Jitterbugs is a coffee lounge, one of the only ones in Central City, serving hot drinks and breakfast in the morning and then dinner and drinks in the evening, along with a comedy show or singers or maybe even just someone playing the piano in the corner as people come around to unwind after their day. Nora opened it with his dad and she used to be the best singer there, playing on the piano and putting everyone else to shame, but she hasn’t done that since his dad died. Now she prefers to be in the background of things.

“You’re not eating, and I know you’re not eating, because Eddie and Lawton come in here to complain about that case that you’re killing yourself over.” They sit down and she gestures to a waiter. “And when you get obsessed with a case, you don’t eat.”

“Maybe I’m a little tired,” he admits. “But I’m here to visit you, not complain about work.”

“When you have kids, you’ll even appreciate them complaining about work,” she tells him. “Trust me.”

“That’s not going to happen any time soon, mom.”

“Don’t even get me started. _One_ grandkid, that’s all I ask. But no, you have to work yourself to death.”

“Mom, come on,” he says. “You have your hands full with this place!”

“You know very well I could manage this place blindfolded.”

That’s true, in all honesty. There’s not a corner of this place his mother hasn’t personally perfected, hasn’t seen to it that it meets her impossibly high standards. He supposes that’s another thing he gets from her. The waiter comes by with their food and he lets out a sigh of contentment as his mother unloads on him about her day, which is so blessedly unlike his that he’s grateful. Sometimes it’s good to get out of the precinct. “…and I had to watch the poor girl listen as the guy went on and on about how he personally knew Mayor Snart,” his mother continues as they eat their lasagne. Barry raises his eyebrows.

“Lena doesn’t know anyone from Gotham, she’s never even been there before.”

“That’s what I was thinking! This guy was full of it. So, I may have asked one of the waitresses to spill a frappe on him.”

“Mom!”

“You used to do much worse when you worked here, Barry.”

“Fair point,” he grins. He and Lena Snart worked here when they were teenagers, before she went off to study politics and then become the Mayor of Central City. “Anything else weird happen around this place today?”

“Well, I had a reporter from CCPN breeze in here and demand a dozen of those double chocolate brownies that you put on the menu years ago.”

“The ones with the gummy bears?” Barry frowns. He remembers an afternoon with his sister trying to make the brownie recipe in the book more interesting. “I thought you said people hated those.”

“Well, apparently not, because Ms…Park,” his mother frowns, remembering, “gave one to her best friend after a bad day and now she’s obsessed with them. You’re very popular with the kitchen right now.” His mother sips her wine. “So, tell me what part of the case has got you not eating this time?”

Barry sighs. “We lost a witness and Eddie thinks we’re headed for a mistrial. Nothing short of a miracle is going to help us.”

His mother tips her head. “And you don’t have any leads? You’re always usually able to pull something out of the bag at times like this.”

“I don’t know, mom, I really don’t know how I can conjure up a witness out of thin air. There’s an…avenue, I guess you could call it, by the new CSI, but I’m not sure how much help it would be. She’s not a detective.”

His mother shrugs. “There’s no harm in trying, is there? Wait, is this the one with the PhD that Floriana was telling me about? Lily, or Violet.”

“Iris,” he corrects. “I mean, Dr. West.”

“That’s right, Iris. Floriana tells me you don’t like her?”

Barry rolls his eyes. “This is exactly why I don’t like her talking to people. I don’t hate her, she’s just…Dr. West is very…” _Distracting_. With her big brown Bambi eyes and sunshine smile and her complete inability to do anything without enthusiasm. And she’s beautiful, something that’s becoming harder and harder for him to ignore. He remembers seeing her come down the stairs with Lawton and then slowly and carefully tying her brown hair into a neat ponytail, gathering the hair off her shoulders and bundling them up. He’s half certain she caught him staring, but she hasn’t mentioned it, and at the crime scene he said something that made her snap at him, so they were business as usual.

“…Barry?” his mother tries, and he blushes, aware that he hadn’t said anything for a while.

“We don’t mesh well together,” he says finally. “Like water and oil, I guess.”

His mother gives him a look that says she doesn’t believe this at all, but shrugs. “It’s not a bad idea to try working with her, Barry. You’ll never know if you don’t try, she could be a big help.”

“Right.” He’s about to say something else, but then tonight’s entertainment starts playing an old piano ballad that they both recognise. His mother’s eyes go distant, and Barry is reminded of long days spent with his dad decidedly _not_ fishing (he hated it, and still does). He reaches across and squeezes her fingers, and she smiles gratefully. “This time of year, I see him everywhere. I can’t make pot roast without thinking about him.”

In a couple of days, it’ll be the anniversary of when they got the call that Henry had been killed during a drug bust that went sour. It has been more than a decade, so they have their little traditions – his mother takes the day off, and the day after that, they do pleasant. “Are you sure you want to be on duty?” she asks, like she does every year. “You can come home…”

“No, I’m okay,” he says quietly. “I need the distraction. But I’ll call you in the morning.” They look across the stage as the music swells to a particularly beautiful part, and he looks at her. “You could still sing, you know,” he tells her quietly. “You would blow everyone else out of the water.”

“I know, honey,” she sighs. “But I think my performing days are over. Maybe for a special occasion?”

“Okay.”

She nods and leans across to kiss him on the forehead. “I love you, my sweet boy.”

“I love you too, mom.”

***

So, against his better judgement, Barry walks up the stairs to Iris’ – _Dr. West’s_ , dammnit – lab, and knocks on her open door. She doesn’t hear him, too engrossed in a complicated-looking procedure to look up, or take off the goggles that are sitting in front of her glasses. “Dr. West?” Nothing. He inches closer, watching as she transfers things in beakers across the desk and changes the intensity of the Bunsen burner. “Dr. West.” He raises his hand towards her shoulder. “Iris-”

“WHA – Shit!” She jumps in surprise, spraying him with whatever she’s working with, and he yelps, taking a step back.  She pops a pair of earplugs out of her ears.

“What the hell – what is that? Did you just spray acid on me?”

“It wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t startled me!”

“I was trying to get your attention!”

“You didn’t notice the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door?”

Barry looks behind her, raising his arm to point in between trying to figure out what she’d sprayed on him, and raises an eyebrow. “Do you mean the sign on the hook behind you, Dr. West?”

She twists around to look at the sign, and then Barry doesn’t even try not to be smug when she turns back to him with a sheepish expression on her face. “I must have forgotten to put the sign on the door.”

“Would you look at that? Now, what the hell did you put on me? I feel like it’s burning, does this stuff burn?”

“Relax, detective,” she says, taking her goggles off. “It’s benzaldehyde.”

“That doesn’t sound too friendly, what if it’s dangerous? You could’ve hurt me, or-”

“The most dangerous thing about you is that you’re going to smell like cookies,” she replies dryly. “Benzaldehyde is the thing you find in almonds.”

Then it’s Barry’s turn to look sheepish, and he stops studying his shirt with such intensity. “Oh.”

“Now, what can I help you with, detective? Unless you were feeling bored and decided it would be fun to scare a woman holding a Bunsen burner?”

Barry sighs, rubbing the back of his head. “This idea you had,” he says slowly. “The witness tampering theory.”

She eyes him. “I thought you thought it was stupid.”

He frowns. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to, detective. Your expressions aren’t exactly subtle.”

“Well, I…You’re not stupid.”

“I know that,” she says simply, adjusting her glasses. “But I do like when other people agree with me. What is it about my theory?”

“Explain it to me.”

“Oh. Well, I just thought that it was odd that two people who lived in Baldwin Towers now can’t give evidence in mob cases – I mean, I haven’t confirmed what Detective Lance is investigating, but like I said, it’s really unlikely – for whatever reason. Either because they’re dead or because they pulled out.”

“But Tommy’s death was an accident,” Barry points out, and Iris bites her lip. “Dr. West…?”

“Look, I’ve been doing this a long time, detective. The angle that the bullet went in, and where it ended up…” She walks out in front of her desk, coming to a stop in front of him. She gestures with her hands, pointing to his chest as a reference point. “The fact that both of those people – both the shooter and Mr. Larsen – were in motion, would have meant that the bullet would have gone in at an angle, if it even hit him at all. But the bullet was clean and hit a part of the body that guaranteed death because of the proximity to the heart and blood loss.”

Barry regards her. “And why didn’t you put this in the report?”

“I did. But there’s already a narrative of a robbery gone wrong, and until I bumped into Fowsia James at the town hall and got a look at her files, I didn’t think anything of it.”

Barry rubs his chin, thinking. “We’d have to find more.”

“More?”

“More people in the same situation – people who’d have reason for the Santinis to threaten them. And we’d have to prove your theory that it’s linked with the fact that they live in that building. Do you think someone there is threatening them inside the place? Like the landlord or something?”

Dr. West snorts. “If there’s one thing I know from living in crappy student housing, it’s that the landlord is basically God. That’s entirely possible.”

“And we’d have to do it fast. I can look through old files and look for witnesses that dropped out, and we can cross-match them with people who live in that building. Do you have anywhere to start?”

“Tommy Larsen’s apartment,” she replies immediately. At his look, she gives a small smile. “Um, sorry. I was curious, I guess, after I saw how into it you and Lawton were, and I let my mind wander. But I can help, if you don’t mind working together.”

Barry considers this. This would be extra work for both of them, which means they’d spend more time than necessary together. The thought makes his heart race in his chest and his palms sweat, and he clears his throat, willing himself to concentrate. “Well, then, Dr. West, I guess we’re working together. If it won’t be too difficult for you, that is.”

She doesn’t look too impressed by his familiar self-satisfaction. “Anything for you, detective.”

***

Linda can’t decide whether she thinks it’s a terrible idea, or if she’s highly entertained. Eventually, as they make their way across the city towards the hospital, Linda decides that it’s both. “You’re working with Detective Asshole?” she snorts. “Oh, yeah, this should be good.”

Iris winces. While that nickname is certainly accurate when he’s being difficult, she hopes Linda will refrain from calling him that when he’s around. There’s a chance he’ll come to the apartment to talk about the case, and she doesn’t want him to know that she came up with it. “Well, it is a pretty important case,” she admits. “He doesn’t have any other avenues. And it’s not like he knows any other CSIs.”

“Oh, it’s logical. I just think there’s every chance you’re going to murder him – Floriana told me you two can’t go three minutes without snapping at each other.”

“Get tequila in that woman and she’ll give you the world,” Iris mutters. “Look, we can be professional, okay? We’re adults.”

Linda doesn’t have to know that she still wants to run her hands through his hair. “Anyway,” she continues, “I don’t want to think about that right now, I’ve had a great day, and I might actually get dinner with my parents.”

Linda grins as they walk into the lobby of Central City Memorial, where Iris’ father is the chief of surgery. They’re both used to it, the hustle and bustle of the hospital as doctors run around. Iris basically grew up here, since she was born when her dad was still an intern, and she knows the hospital like the back of her hand. She also knows its doctors pretty well. She smiles when they make their way up to her dad’s office and recognise Cecile, her dad’s head of trauma surgery, walking towards them. “Hey, Cecile,” she says warmly. “How are you?”

“Iris, Linda,” Cecile smiles pleasantly. “How are you girls? How’s work?”

“Linda Park, Ace Reporter and Iris West, Super Nerd to the rescue,” Linda replies, and Iris rolls her eyes.

“Why am I ‘Super Nerd’ and you’re ‘Ace Reporter’?”

“Because ‘Super Adorable Genius Nerd’ is way too long. I had to cut out the middle.”

“You couldn’t go with ‘Super Genius’?”

“Everyone’s a critic,” Linda mutters, and Cecile laughs.

“Twenty years and you girls are still the same. Are you here to see Dr. West? Well, the junior Dr. West.”

“I am,” Linda answers. “Iris wants to see her dad.”

“Yeah, have you seen him? We’re supposed to be getting dinner with Mom.”

“He’s probably upstairs in his office. Linda, Wally’s down in the east wing.”

“Cool.” She hugs Linda goodbye. “Say hi to Wally for me.”

She leaves, and they wait for her to walk around the corner before turning back to each other. “Is he doing it tonight?” Iris asks. Cecile nods.

“That’s the plan. They’re going to that fancy restaurant by the bay.”

“How’s he doing it?”

“He wouldn’t tell us – didn’t want to jinx it.”

The fact that Wally was going to propose to his girlfriend of basically a decade has been news in the hospital for weeks, but with him working all the time and Linda able to spot clues a mile away, it’s been increasingly hard for him to surprise her. But now Wally has found his chance and he’s finally going to ask Linda to marry him, like he’s been promising his cousin Iris he’ll do ever since she brought Linda to his seventh birthday party and she laughed at his ears.

Iris wishes Cecile farewell and makes her way to her dad’s office, where she finds her mother sitting on the couch facing him. And she takes one look at her expression and knows that she won’t be getting dinner with her dad. To his credit, Dr. West does look guilty about it. “Dad.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You promised!”

“That’s what I said,” her mother adds in a voice that makes it clear she’s already had this argument today. Her dad looks between them apologetically.

“There are about a dozen emergency surgeries right now so we had to push our scheduled ones, a gas explosion at a restaurant, someone was shot…”

“I swear to God, we should have put this hospital in my wedding vows,” her mother mutters, shaking her head, but she gets up and kisses her husband. “Iris and I can get dinner and I’ll give you the highlights.”

Iris does the same. “They’ll be crappy highlights,” she tells him as she hugs him. “Half of the fun is hearing the story live.”

Her father laughs into her hair as he hugs her. She’s sadder for him than she is disappointed, since this happens regularly because he’s the chief, and he hates standing them up. But there are some things that he just can’t delegate. Behind them, her mother laughs as well. “Don’t worry, I’ll get the big stuff. If she’s turned into an axe murderer or a metahuman, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Or gone off brownies?” her dad suggests.

“Let’s not be ridiculous,” her mother replies, and Iris makes an indignant noise.

“Hey! I’m not that bad!”

“Iris, I honestly don’t know how you haven’t collapsed from a sugar coma by now – every time I go by your apartment I see you eating them.”

“It’s brain food,” she tells them. “Your daughter’s a genius, be happy.”

“Of course I’m happy,” her father says. “How can I not be with you two in my life?”

“This is exactly how you get off the hook for missing dinner, you know,” her mother sighs. “I’ll see you at home?”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Iris and her mother decide to go to one of their favourite restaurants – a Mexican place a few blocks away from her apartment – and they’re getting to the ground floor when they hear a commotion in the children’s ward. Iris frowns. “What is it?”

One of the nurses recognises her and leans in close. “Child Services came down to take someone’s kids away.”

“Oh, God,” her mother breathes. She can hear them now, even though some of the orderlies are trying to shoo everyone away from the nurse’s station in the children’s ward. She basically grew up in this hospital, so she’s seen this kind of thing before – when people are hitting their kids or neglecting them, but that kind of thing never gets any easier to listen to. She knows that none of them will tell her what’s going on because of doctor-patient confidentiality, but as she and her mother walk past on their way to the entrance, she hears a name that makes her pause.

“Mrs Larsen – Mrs Larsen, _please_ …”

“ _I’m not hurting them, you can’t take them_!”

“She must be dying on the inside,” her mother says quietly. Then she frowns at her. “Iris? Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” she replies after a second. “Yeah, sorry. Just…remembering something.”

***

Barry isn’t even a little surprised by the disbelief on Lawton’s face when he informs her that he’ll be working with Dr. West on the Santini case. Barry sips his coffee as they walk into the precinct together, trying to bat away her questions.

“So… _you_ asked her,” she clarifies. He nods.

“Yep.”

“And she said yes?”

He looks down at her. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“In a word?” she asks. “Yes.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you’re _you_. You’re Detective Allen. Look, you’re brilliant. Despite the fact that you have no patience, very little tact, and you’re kind of an asshole – you’re actually a great partner.”

“Gee, thanks, Lawton,” he laughs. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Tell me something I don’t know. But Dr. West is…I mean, she watches superhero cartoons and reads science fiction books. She gets excited about brownies. She’s like…”

“Sunshine?” Barry suggests absently, thinking of her smile, but thankfully Lawton doesn’t notice that.

“Well, yeah. Just be nice to her, okay?”

“Why do you care so much?”

“Because we’re friends. Kinda. And she’s hot.”

Barry frowns. “I thought you were still getting over that Baez guy.”

“Shawn?” Lawton snorts. “Please, it didn’t take me longer than a shower to get over him. Besides, like you said, she’s our last resort. Don’t scare her off.”

Lawton leaves him then, and he shakes his head. Okay, that stuff may have been true, but he’s not _scary_. He’s just efficient, as evidenced by the fact that he already has the names and files of people in previous mob cases involving the Santinis to see whether she can dig up information on them. He’s looked through the first few files when a shadow appears at his desk. “Detective Allen?”

“Dr. West,” he says, barely even surprised that she’s popped up from nowhere at his desk again. “I really am going to get you a bell.”

“As long as you make sure it matches my eyes,” she shoots back swiftly. “Do you have a moment? It’s about your case.”

“I was just coming to see you about that, actually. What is it?”

“I need you to get me into Tommy Larsen’s house.”

Barry blinks at her. “You want me to get you into a murder victim’s house?”

“Yes.”

“So you can what, admire his drapes?”

“I need a sample of his carpet. Or his wallpaper. Or his drapes might work well, actually,” she muses.

“Seriously?”

“Would it help if I said please?”

“Why do you need to get into his house?”

She leans over his desk, pushing her hair out of her face, and speaks in a low voice. “My dad is doctor at Central City Memorial, and I was visiting him when I heard Mrs. Larsen was there. She was getting her kids taken away by protective services.”

Barry raises his eyebrows. “Really? There was no mention of any abuse when we talked to her.”

“Exactly. When I walked past, the nurses who were talking mentioned that they had a very high level of carcinogens in their systems, so much that they had to take the kids away. The same thing they found in their dad’s lungs.”

Dr. West pauses at that moment, frowning. She’s leaning so far over his desk that steam from his coffee is fogging up her glasses, and she pats herself down looking for a handkerchief to clean them. Almost without thinking, he takes the one in his pocket out and hands it to her. She hesitates before taking it, puffing on her glasses and cleaning them, and then returning it to him. When she puts her glasses back on, she continues. “I checked with my notes from Fowsia James’ building complaints,” she says. “They told their landlord that their carpet smelled funny, so the carcinogens could be coming from there.”

“You mentioned those before,” he says, sipping his coffee. “What are they?”

“Carcinogens cause rapid disruption of cellular metabolic processes.”

“Iris.” Her name drops out of his mouth before he can do anything about it, almost like he isn’t thinking, and she looks briefly surprised before continuing. “Sorry. They cause cancer.”

“Cancer?”

“Yes, and they’re very easy to trap in fibres.”

Barry thinks for a moment. “So Tommy Larsen is a witness, probably in a mob case.”

“Yes.”

“And maybe he sees something he shouldn’t.” Barry’s heart starts beating really fast. “And maybe to stop him from talking, they make things go wrong in his apartment until he refuses to help the police.”

“He never refused,” Dr. West realises. “So they killed him. And made it look like a robbery.”

Barry sits back, his head spinning. “As an example of witness tampering, if it’s true, it’s ingenious. The only reason we know about it is complete chance, because of your photographic memory.”

Dr. West adjusts her glasses, smiling shyly. “Well, you know, it’s what I do. So, I need you to get me into the apartment so I can confirm it.”

But he shakes his head. “I can’t, you’re a CSI.”

“Aren’t instances of abuse reported to the police?”

“Yes, but it’s…” Barry kind of peters out, noticing that her eyes have got impossibly big and shiny behind her glasses. “Dr. West, I’m not authorised to…” Jesus Christ, is she doing this on purpose? And is she _pouting_? “Look, I’ll see what I can do, but I’m not promising anything.”

“Thank you, detective,” she beams at him. She starts to leave, but he calls her back. “Not so fast, I wanted to give you something, remember? These,” he says, “are the names and details of everyone who’s ever pulled out of the case that we’ve been working with Eddie for the last six months.”

Her eyes widen at how many files there are. “Jesus, Allen, don’t you ever sleep?”

“I’m very thorough, Dr. West.”

She blinks and he frowns. “What? Is there something in my hair?”

“No, nothing,” she says, gathering up the papers. “I’ll look through these. If I get started now, I should be done before I’m forty.”

“If you can’t handle it…”

“Oh, I can handle anything, Detective.”

***

_Stop flirting with Detective Allen._

_Stop thinking about his hair._

_Stop looking at his mouth_.

Iris tells herself this each day as she goes to work to continue their work on the case, meaning they often have to meet up whenever they have a spare moment. That usually ends up being a Wednesday afternoon in her office, which are day off but she still usually spends them at the office. Detective Allen comes in with his trademark stoic expression and they talk about the admittedly slow progress they’re making. Given that they’re essentially crafting a witness tampering case out of thin air and they all have stuff to do, it’s not moving as quickly as they would hope. Today, though, should be a welcome reprieve from that. Detective Allen has managed to get himself attached to the case of Mrs. Larsen and her children, meaning he has to go to the house to interview her. A social worker will be there, too, and Iris will be allowed to take as many samples as she wants. And they’ll basically be spending the entire day together, so she has to remind herself that she isn’t allowed to stare at Detective Allen while they’re working.

It’s a little ridiculous, the fact that she’s developed a crush on him. From the look of him, though, she certainly isn’t the first. After a few shots, Lawton told her about an ex-girlfriend that the entire precinct hated but never mentioned to him; she doesn’t even know her name because Officer Sans Souci says she’s like Beetlejuice. There was also a woman called Patty Spivot, the detective who moved to Coast City that Lawton admits that everyone quite liked, but that doesn’t matter. None of it _matters_. Because Barry – Detective Allen – is her colleague and that would be a terrible idea. Plus, he drives her crazy.

“Another earth?” he demands sceptically as they walk down the street. “Not another planet, another _earth_ , like this one?”

“Why is that so hard to believe?” she wants to know, and Barry lets out a short laugh.

“Maybe because you started this story by describing an episode of Commander Carl, Space Marshall of the Galaxy?”

Iris grins excitedly, pushing her glasses up her nose. “That was a seminal episode! He woke up after being sucked through a vortex – he thought he was on _his_ earth but he was really on the earth of _another_ universe! Besides, Professor Stein’s Theory of Parallel Earths was revolutionary.”

He just shakes his head at her, a small smile on his face. “Whatever you say, Ir – ahem, Dr West.”

She’s noticed that about him, that he always corrects himself when he’s close to saying her name. She doesn’t admit to herself that she kind of wants him to slip up. “So,” he continues gruffly, looking ahead, “what are you hoping to find today?”

“Well, if I send samples of anything that could trap those fibres to a friend of mine,” Iris tells him, “and there’s anything suspicious in it, we combine it with the interviews you’re doing today and we’ll have a narrative for how they’re going about their witness tampering.”

Detective Allen gives her a look. “A ‘friend’? It’s not Linda, is it?”

Then it’s Iris’ turn to be surprised. “How do you know about Linda?”

“You’re not as subtle as you think, West. I heard you talking on the phone with her about how weird her boyfriend was acting at dinner a few days ago.”

Iris suppresses a smile, trying to keep the memory at bay. Wally was supposed to propose to Linda during that dinner, except he’d tried the totally cheesy manoeuvre of putting the ring in the dessert – even when Iris had _specifically_ told him not to – but then the waiters had gotten the order confused and sent it to someone else instead. By the time he got it back, he was too freaked to do anything. “Well, I’ll have you know it’s not Linda, it’s Freddie Smoak. He owns a lab in Star City that he lets me use sometimes.” And they dated for a little while in college, but Barry doesn’t need to know that.

“Well, Lawton’s trying to see whether she can find out from Detective Lance what case she was working on,” he explains. “If we know specifics, it’ll really help us. And she’s going to Eddie’s trial today to see where they are. They’re deposing some of the accountants that work for the Santini family, which should be fun.”

“You and I have very different definitions of the word ‘fun’.”

“Ah, I forgot,” he says gravely, nodding. “The Space Marshalls.”

“Are you just going to make fun of my taste? Is that it?”

“Well,” he admits, “I could make fun of your height. Because you’re-”

“Detective Allen, do not say it,” she warns.

“…short.”

“I am _petite_ ,” she corrects him, becoming more infuriated at his smug smile. “At least I’m not a walking giraffe, like yourself.”

“I’m sorry, is someone talking?” he asks, looking around. “I can hear a voice, but I can’t _see_ anyone…”

“Oh, real mature,” she says, rolling her eyes, and Detective Allen unexpectedly grins at her. She’s caught, for a little bit, certain that he’s never looked at her like that before. Then he seems to realise what he’s doing and clears his throat again.

“Anyway, you’ll get to meet Eddie eventually. He’s handling the case and he’ll want to check all your work. Okay, here we are.”

When Iris came back to Central City for her Masters and was looking for apartments with Linda, they had a multitude of rules, including a reasonable distance from work, proximity to the city streets (both women worked best with the bustle of noise around them), and walk-in wardrobes. But they really only had one rule, which was that under no circumstances would they look at an apartment in Baldwin Towers. Not only did they know that they were badly-maintained, cheap apartments, but there were way too many unsavoury figures around the place.

Detective Allen leads her inside, past the dank walls and chipped plaster in the ceiling, and they walk up the stairs. “The social worker and I will be talking to the kids and Mrs. Larsen,” he explains. “Since we looked through her file and couldn’t find anything to indicate that she’s doing anything to keep them unsafe, we’re going to have to talk to all of them to find out the problem.” He eyes her gear bag as they reach the stairs as she shifts it from one shoulder to the other, before silently reaching out and taking it from her. She blinks at him.

“I’ve been carrying those for years, you know. I’ll be fine.”

“I know, Dr. West. You can handle anything. After you.”

They walk up the stairs to the apartment and knock on the door, which is then opened by Mrs. Larsen herself. Unsurprisingly, she gives them both cold looks when she recognises who they are. “Mrs. Larsen,” Detective Allen says evenly. “How are you?”

She ignores the question and turns. “We’re through here.”

The apartment is small and sparsely decorated – cream wallpaper with some nondescript paper on it, a potted plant here, a shoe rack there, and some family photos scattered around the place, little pieces of people that make up a home. Iris’ CSI eyes immediately hone in on what she can collect and analyse – anything that could trap particles in it. Through the corridor, she can see two children with wide eyes sitting next to a portly woman with curly blonde hair, who Iris supposes is the social worker. When their mother goes back into the room, they visibly relax. Iris looks at him. “Are you interviewing them together?”

“No,” he says. “First the kids and the social worker will do the mom, and then we switch.”

Iris bites her lip. When they leave the hospital, they become the police’s problem; she only knows these cases as far as her father has had to deal with them. “They look so small.”

“Their dad just died,” he replies. “Everything is…scarier for them. It makes you smaller.”

Iris hears the change in inflection in his voice and wonders why his voice caught slightly in his throat when he speaks, but his expression is its usual business-like one when he turns to her. “We’ll be about an hour; tell me when you’re done.”

And he walks off without another word. Honestly, that man. She goes around each of the other empty rooms in turn, carefully cutting pieces of carpet, curtains, and anything else that could trap the nitrosamines in them, before carefully labelling and bagging them. She’s called Freddie already, and he should have them back to her by the end of the week. Iris looks at her watch and realises that they still have twenty minutes left of the interviews. She’s been in her own world this entire time, but now she can hear the low murmurs that are emanating from each of the rooms, the slightly higher pitched voices of the kids, and the clipped tones of Mrs. Larsen. Her mother told her, when they went to dinner, that she’d kill anyone who ever tried to take Iris away from her, and so Iris kind of gets why Mrs. Larsen could barely look at them when they first walked in. She wanders out to the hall and is more than a little surprised to see that Detective Allen has vacated his chair and is instead kneeling in front of the younger of the two kids. “…have to try to be brave, okay? I know it’s a lot, but…” he trails off when he realises that the boy is looking at Iris, who’s hovering in the doorway.

“Ahem,” she says quietly. “I’m finished, Detective. I can wait for you downstairs, if that’s what you-”

“No, that’s alright,” he interrupts. “We’ll be done in a moment, Dr. West.”

Iris nods and goes to stand on the landing, looking out onto the city. She can see her apartment from here, and the precinct, and the hospital. If she looks hard enough, she’s sure she can see CCPN. She imagines Linda trying to explain to her interns how to work without confirmation bias or something. She hears a noise behind her and twists around to see Mrs. Larsen. She shifts her bag back around awkwardly. “Mrs. Larsen.”

“Did you find what you need?” she wants to know, folding her arms. She’s not looking her in the eye, Iris notices, which is understandable.

“Yes, I did. Thank you.” She pauses, not wanting the silence to stretch out. She has seen people who abuse their children, and she knows in her heart of hearts that this woman doesn’t. Iris just hopes they can prove what she knows is true, and that they can help get justice for her husband. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Mrs. Larsen nods, before meeting her eyes with a sad expression. “Are you – are they going to take my kids away? Is that why you’re here?”

“I…I don’t know. I hope not. I’m here to collect evidence for a case we’re working on.”

“Is it about my husband?”

“Mrs. Larsen, I-”

“It is, isn’t it? That’s why they brought a detective and not an officer, and why they keep asking all these questions about the people Tommy worked with.”

Iris sighs. “We are trying to find the men who killed your husband, yes. I’m a crime scene investigator, what I’m doing here is partly to do with that and partly to do with you.”

“So you can get my kids back for me?” she begs. “You can prove I’m not doing anything to them?”

“I…” she sighs, before giving her a small, hopeful smile. “I’m confident that we will.”

Just as she finishes speaking, Detective Allen comes out of the room with the social worker and the two kids. To Iris’ surprise, he is smiling again. He then bends down to look them both in the eye. “Remember what we talked about, okay?”

Iris is surprised once more when the kid hugs him, then Detective Allen laughs and then gently disentangles himself from his arms. “Mrs. Larsen,” he nods curtly, before shaking the social worker’s hand. “We will be in touch if we have any more questions. Dr. West?”

They leave the apartment quietly, and as soon as they’re out onto the street he turns to her. “Find anything?”

“I smelled something weird the minute I walked in,” she says, shaking her head. “There’s definitely something weird going on in that place. What did the kids say?”

“Their mom isn’t doing anything at all to them,” he says. “But their dad _did_ talk to the police about something – they just don’t know what. His wife doesn’t know either, and until she gets her kids back, I doubt that will be her priority.”

“Well, at least she’ll be getting them back soon.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You said she’s not doing anything to them,” Iris points out. “Why wouldn’t she?”

“Because we still need to prove that the environment they’re living in is safe enough for them to return to. And I have no idea what Child Protective Services will say.” Detective Allen frowns. “You didn’t tell her that, did you?”

“Was I not supposed to?”

He stares at her. “Why would you do that?”

“Because her husband just died and she’s worried that her kids are being taken away from her permanently,” she replies. “Besides, isn’t that our job?”

“Our job is to keep the kids safe,” he shoots back. “And making sure _they’re_ okay after they just lost their father!”

“I was trying to comfort a woman who’s had her entire life ripped apart, Detective.”

“Giving her false hope is going to do the exact opposite of that,” he snaps at her, and she glares at him.

“I suppose you know this because you’re the detective and I’m the CSI.”

“Maybe I do.”

“Well, Detective Allen,” she says in clipped tones, “I guess I know where we stand.”

***

Lawton knows something is up when they make it back to the precinct and are unable to look at each other. “What’s going on with you two?”

Barry folds his arms and Dr. West pushes some hair out of her face. “Nothing,” they say together. Lawton’s eyes slide between the two of them. “Alright. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you both that I just got off the phone with Detective Lance, and you’re never going to believe what she told me.” She pulls out a notepad. “Tommy Larsen was her witness, but guess who she was working against?”

“Who?” Barry asks. “Star City looks more like Gotham every day, she could be investigating anything.”

“Marco Santini.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” She slides her notes over to him. “According to Dinah, Tommy saw something that he shouldn’t have while he was doing a job in Star City for Queen Construction. He told the police while he was there, it got passed onto Dinah, and they’ve been working together ever since. Apparently the Santinis tried to intimidate him into stopping, but he refused. Which is why she was pissed off that he died.”

“And she’s probably going to be even more irritated that it was on purpose,” Barry says. “What about Eddie? How was he?”

Lawton winces. “Not great. He wants to meet you two, actually, since witness tampering has always been so hard to prove with these guys.”

His gaze slides to Dr. West, who is looking through the samples that she picked up. “Dr. West?”

“Yes, detective?”

“Do you have any more cases like this one that could help us?”

“Well, Hannah Bates,” she admits, being very careful to keep her eyes on the samples. “But I’d need coroner’s reports of any witnesses that have died in the last several months so I can cross-reference them with the people who lived in Baldwin Towers. I would get them myself, but when you demand more than three at any one time, you need a detective or police captain to do it.”

Barry nods. “I will put in a request for you as soon as I can.”

“Great,” she nods at him. “I’ll let you know when I’m free to meet this ASA Thawne you keep telling me about.”

“Oh, you’ll love Eddie,” Lawton tells her. “He’s a real stand-up guy – you wouldn’t even know he’s a lawyer. He’ll make you feel right at home.”

“Nice change,” Dr. West says pointedly, gathering up her stuff, and smiles at Lawton. “I’ll see you both later.”

Once she’s out of earshot and in her lab, Lawton hits him with her notebook. “Ow!” he complains, rubbing his arm. “What was that for?”

“What did you do to her?”

“I didn’t do anything. We had a…disagreement.”

Which, he admits, might have been an overreaction. But it’s cases like this one, so like the one where his father was killed and people kept promising his mother and sister, over and over, that everything would be fine and they would find the killer. Except that they didn’t, because he was just a random goon hired for a gang who ran drugs. None of them were okay after that, but Barry had to grow up a lot faster than he wanted to. But it was okay, he had his mother, who raised him to be strong, and his grandmother Dawnette. They were as proud as anything when he announced that he wanted to go to the police academy after college.

Iris – _Dr. West_ , for the love of _God_ – telling that woman that everything would be fine may have been her trying to be comforting, but he’s never liked to make those promises. He says he’ll do his best, but enough years in this job have taught him that sometimes your best isn’t enough. It’s getting close to that time of year again, when he remembers how helpless he felt and how angry he was. And he tries very hard to ignore the fact that if it had been someone like Dr. West comforting him, with her smile and her warmth, he would have believed every word she said.

Lawton rolls her eyes. “Look, I’m not asking you to have kids with the woman here, but could the two of you at least get along? The temperature in here would have scared Killer Frost.”

Barry sighs. “Fine. I’ll apologise. Now, what exactly happened at the trial today?”

Lawton runs a hand through her hair. “Well, the accountants all said they didn’t notice anything strange about the transactions they had to approve. Except I had our in-house investigator look into them, and guess who’s been spending money on cars, jewellery, and holidays for their families?”

“Good old-fashioned bribery.” Barry groans, thunking his head on the desk. “Okay, well, the accountants were a stretch anyway. As soon as Dr. West gets all her samples back and we can look through the coroner’s reports, maybe we can help Eddie turn things around.”

“That’s the spirit.” She pauses. “Hey, are you coming in on Thursday? Because I can cover for you, or Nimbus can-”

“No,” he interrupts. “That’s alright. I was just going on patrol anyway, nothing major.”

She studies him for a moment. “I never met Dawnette Allen,” she says quietly. “But I think she would have been really proud of you.”

Barry’s throat tightens and he looks at his hands, folded neatly on the desk. Then he musters up a small smile. “Thanks. Deadshot.”

“Ay.”

***

_Barry sits at the top of the stairs as the two agents stand in the doorway. He is supposed to be sleeping, he knows, he has a trig test the next day, but his dad has been gone for a week and he promised they’d talk when he got back. He recognised Aurora Ognats and Maxwell Mercury, two of his dad’s colleagues, and he was hoping he could ask his dad about the police academy when he got in._

_“…come in, Nora?”_

_That is wrong, he thinks. Aurora never sounds like that. She’s always so happy and cheerful and once taught him how to tie a knot so tight it would take hours to get out. But her voice does something to him, makes his skin prickle and his heart beat faster, and make everything a little darker._

_His mother lets them in, and later, when he’s much older, he’ll recall that he felt different when she did that, when she let the bad in, like a shift in the air or a physical change from within him. He hears them tell her the news, what happened when they broke into the drug den, and that they’re sorry and will do anything for what is left of the Allen family, and he cannot breathe._

***

His day always starts the same way, with trying to breathe properly. Wake up. Breathe. Get dressed. Breathe. Go to work. Breathe. Keep breathing, keep breathing, keep breathing. Do not stop.

Barry is good at autopilot, at not giving into everything when it threatens to crush him. It’s a strange thing, grief, like a friend that only visits when you’re at you’re lowest. He is fine for the majority of the year, even on Christmas. But on this day he remembers his dad’s laugh, the way he would carefully explain the rules of what a police officer was allowed to do, and as always, the fishing. Henry Allen could talk about trout for days, and it always drove his son up the wall. Now he’d give anything to have it back.

Most people leave him alone, since they know what it is, while trying to act as if everything’s normal. They’ve given up asking him to take a day off, since he never listens. Anyway, it’ll just end with him alone in his apartment, looking at pictures that should have one more person in it. So he’s here, at work, looking through the notes that Dr. West has meticulously laid out for him. She put the names that she wants from the coroner’s office, everything she has so far. It is pretty clever, what they’ve been able to come up with. Tommy Larsen was helping Dinah Lance and talked to the police, so the Santini family, owning a stake in Baldwin Towers, replaced his carpet with something that was essentially filled with poison until he retracted his statements. He didn’t, and then he was shot in a robbery that still looks like an accident. Dr. West has his files on Hannah Bates and some others, and he’s getting the coroner’s reports for her as well.

“Allen?”

He blinks and sees that Lawton is standing over his desk. “Sorry, partner. What’s up?”

“I’m heading out with the Captain,” she tells him. “You gonna be okay?”

“I’ll be fine, Lawton. You go on ahead.”

She walks past Dr. West as she leaves, who laughs at something the detective says, snorting a little in the way that he’s recently found out she thinks is embarrassing. They haven’t spoken since the interview the day before, because they’ve been busy, but he finds himself wanting to talk to her. Not even about the case, really, but because he kind of thinks that she’ll listen. She seems like a good listener. But not when he is like this, when he’s trying to focus on breathing. All he has to do is keep breathing.

***

_Barry waits patiently for the mechanic to come out of his office, looking once more over the list in his hands. He’s made good progress today – he did the groceries, he went to the post office, he took his sister to her tennis lesson and he’ll be there to pick her up after she’s done. This is one of the last things on his list._

_“Allen? Barry Allen?” the mechanic squints at him, before using a dirty cloth to wipe sweat from his brow. “What are you doing here, kid?”_

_“Hi, Mr Maloney,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. He stands up, watching as the older man walks between cars and parts. “Are you busy?”_

_“I’m always busy. You got a car that needs fixing?”_

_“Yes. No. Well, yeah, it-”_

_“Spit it out, kid.”_

_Barry pauses. He’s always unsure about this bit, about how much his grandmother will allow him to tell, whether he should mention that his mother finds it hard to get out of bed on some days. But he promised his dad he would look after everyone if anything had happened to him, and now it has, and he has to face it. “Our car broke down again.”_

_“I’ll get to it as soon as I can, just leave it in the lot.”_

_“No, I-” Barry breaks off, swallowing, and looks at his shoes. “I want you to teach me how to fix it. My dad was supposed to teach me this summer, but…”_

_He had been wrong before._ This _is the hardest part, he’s realising. The pity in everyone’s eyes, that double-edged sword, like all the sorry’s that don’t soothe at all, they just show that everyone’s just as helpless when trying to make it stop hurting. Mr Maloney’s eyes are tight with it, and he takes off his hat while surveying Barry’s figure, trying his best to stand up straight, to look him in the eye, to keep breathing, even though it feels like his chest has been in a vice since that night. But he’s supposed to be tough._

_“Fine,” Mr Maloney says finally. He points at Barry. “You come here after school on Thursdays, and I’ll teach you. You miss one with a good excuse, and we’re done. You hear me?”_

_Barry grins “Yes, sir.”_

_“Leave the car and get going, I’ll call you when it’s ready.”_

_Barry leaves and heads to the bus stop, nodding in satisfaction that he can cross one more thing off his list._

***

“’…looks like they employ a range of methods,” Barry reads to himself, “including but not limited to broken boiler, damaged stove, various dangerous gases in carpets or drapes, bedbugs, and damaged ceiling tiles. Seeing as the landlord has access to these people’s homes and it wouldn’t be a stretch of the imagination to assume that they’re all being watched, we can make a case that Baldwin Towers is aware of, or at least complicit in, the witness tampering.’”

Barry sips his as he finishes the last of his edits, before preparing to send them to Eddie. He’s spent essentially the whole day on this case, trying to distract himself from the weight that’s sitting on his chest, but is still surprised when he looks up and sees that the precinct is almost empty. There are a few people walking around, but Lawton went home a few hours ago and the night duty people will be coming in soon. Barry rubs his eyes. It’s childish and cowardly, he knows, but he doesn’t want to go home. Not right now, not when he feels like the vice will grip him again so he can’t breathe, and he’s too wired on coffee to sleep.

His mother called him this morning to make sure he was doing okay, but he knows they’re both doing the same thing – throwing themselves into work to distract themselves. His sister, across the country at college, is doing that too, but he knows that it’s just a distraction. Barry looks despondently around his desk, trying to conjure up some more work to do, when he sees a commotion in the atrium. “Tockman?” he asks the woman manning the phones. “What is it? What’s going on?”

“Reports of a disturbance downtown, near Westmore Bridge,” she tells him. Barry frowns. “That’s where the drugs bust was this morning.”

“Yeah, and the southside gangs meet there – I think there was a confrontation that got out of hand.”

Barry is already grabbing his gear. “Is there anyone else who can come with me? Sans Souci is here, but I think we’ll need more.”

Tockman nods. “I’m getting as many people down there as possible, you should be good to go once you’re on the road.”

Barry nods, pulling on his gear and checking his gun. This, at the very least, should distract him.

***

_It comes when he least expects it, the first one. He’s sitting in the hallway waiting to go in for the PSATs, and he keeps trying to remember what his dad said about luck and hard work. He flips a pencil between his fingers as people walk past, excitedly chattering about what they’re going to do afterwards. Barry wants to join in, but he feels like there’s an elephant sitting on his chest and he’s trying to save his breath. What was it? Did luck help hard work or did hard work bring luck?_

_“Mrs Tanner’s class,” one of the test administrator says, “you may go in and be seated.”_

_Barry frowns, rubbing his chest as the feeling of the elephant sitting on it intensifies, and dumps his bag where he’s instructed. His dad said it all the time, why can’t he remember it? He almost misses the moment he’s called to his seat, he’s so preoccupied, and now he feels dizzy. He takes a sip of water as the administrator reads out instructions, but he can barely hear her._

_Hard work beats talent when…No, that’s not it, either. He flips the pencil again, frowning. He should_ know _this, his dad said it everyday, he should…he should…_

_“Mrs Tanner?” someone says, but it sounds very far away. “Barry’s making a really weird noise…”_

_Someone swims into his vision, but by that time he’s shaking and nauseous and the rooms keeps spinning. “Barry? Barry, are you alright?”_

_“I can’t,” he chokes out. He shakes his head. “I can’t_ breathe _, it…My chest…”_

 _“Call his mother,” someone says, and then Barry doesn’t know how, but he’s outside the nurse’s office with his head between his legs. It is calming, making everything smaller and concentrating on breathing. That is all he has to do, is keep breathing. Keep breathing._ Keep breathing.

 _Barry’s mother arrives before he knows it. He has been brave, and not cried, not even at the funeral, but he sees her here looking for him and looking_ worried _for him, and the sobs come from deep within him, clawing their way up his chest until he is choking them out. She pulls him into her arms, letting him be, letting him cry, letting him breathe._

***

After the week she’s had, Iris West envisions many things for her Thursday night. Dinner with her mom if she isn’t busy. Netflix with Linda afterwards. Maybe she’d even do some reading that didn’t have anything to do with forensics. What she most certainly did _not_ expect to do was tend to a bruised and bloody Detective Allen.

She never usually leaves this late on a Thursday, but between the building fire and the drugs bust that happened early this morning, she’s been in and out of her lab all day. She has all manner of dust and chemicals on her clothes, and she wants nothing more than to curl up in bed with a big bowl of cheesy pasta and watch terrible TV. This is what she’s thinking of when she trudges down the stairs from her lab and walks into someone coming out of the men’s bathroom. “Sorry, I – _Detective Allen_?”

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he says immediately, but she can’t stop staring.

“It looks like _your head is bleeding_ ,” she counters, and she’s right. Detective Allen has cuts on one side of his face near his ear, including a long one that’s causing blood to drip down his neck. He sighs, holding a wad of tissue paper to his head.

“Yeah, it – you know the drug bust you guys went to this morning?”

“Yes…”

“Well, there was a gang fight there this evening, and we arrested some people, and I guess I got hit with something. It was fine on the ride over, but then it started bleeding again. Do you know where the precinct medic is?”

“Larvan?” she asks, eyeing the wound. “He’s off-duty.”

“I know. I called him, I thought she’d be here by now.”

“He isn’t – look, sit down, I’ll fix you up. I have a first-aid kit in my office.”

“I’ll wait for the medic,” Detective Allen says stubbornly even as he winces. Iris narrows her eyes at him.

“Okay. Larvan lives about thirty minutes away, not counting the time it’ll take him to get dressed and get ready. In that time, you could become susceptible to infection, headaches, unconsciousness associated with blood loss, fatigue, nausea, sepsis-”

“Alright, alright,” he interrupts. He peers at her. “What, are you a medical doctor too?”

“No, but my dad and cousin are.” She leads him over to his desk and makes him sit down. “Do not move until I get back, understand?” She dumps her stuff and then strides upstairs to get a first-aid kit, before coming back down to see that the bleeding has worsened. They’re alone in the precinct, with the only sound of the ceiling fans whirring away and the generators powering the low lights. Iris studies the side of his head.

“Shouldn’t I be in a hospital?” he asks.

“Maybe. I have to see how deep it is first.” Iris swallows when she realises she’s going to have to get extremely close to him to assess all the damage, close enough that she can smell the sharp tang of blood and sweat, mixing in with his aftershave. “Sit up for me?”

He straightens. Even sitting down, with his long body, he’s still about two inches taller than her. The only thing that is keeping them at eye-level is the fact that she’s wearing heels. She gingerly peels the tissue paper away, feeling a little twinge when he winces in pain. “Sorry.”

“S’ok,” he shrugs.

“It’s still bleeding,” she says. “Hold this bandage to your head until it stops while I figure out the rest of you.” Her fingers brush his skin when she places the bandage over it, and she grabs his hand to press it to the source of the bleeding. “There. Now, um, could you follow my finger? I need to check your sight.”

Iris moves her finger from side to side, watching as his green eyes track the movement. They’re a lot darker in this light – she can see the green more than the gold and amber hues they usually have when it’s light outside. She remembers just in time to stop staring at how pretty they are. “Good. Do you feel sick, or dizzy?”

“Not really,” he admits. “Just tired.”

“Alright.” Iris presses two fingers to his cheek, near his injuries. “Does this hurt?”

He shakes his head before wincing again. “A yes or no will suffice, Detective,” she smiles.

“Oh. Um. No.”

“This?” she moves towards his temple.

“No.”

“H-How about this?” she moves down his neck, where some of the shallower cuts are, acutely aware of how close they are. From the way his Adam’s apple bobs, he’s very aware of it too.

“A bit,” he breathes. Then he tries for a grin. “B-But really, you should see the other guy.”

“I would be more inclined to believe that were you not bleeding from your head.” She looks at the bandage again, nodding. “That’s stopped, so I’m going to clean it. This will probably sting a bit.”

“I’m a big boy, Dr. West.”

“So you’ve said,” she laughs, pulling on some gloves. Then she very carefully takes a cloth, dips it in saline solution, and starts to clean his face. “You mind telling me what happened?”

Barry’s eyes flutter shut, and he shrugs. “I guess I wasn’t paying attention when we were in there. It gets kind of hectic during situations like that.”

“You?” she frowns in disbelief, concentrating on not opening the wound further than it already is. “That doesn’t sound like you; you’re the most careful detective in this place.”

Detective Allen sort of hunches his shoulders at that, and she has to grab his chin and tilt it upwards so she can reach his face properly. He opens his eyes and looks at her for just a moment before blinking and looking at the ground, folding his arms. “Yeah, well…It’s the anniversary of the day my father died today,” he tells her quietly. “So I kind of wanted a distraction, but that was how he died, in a place like that, and I just…” He shrugs again, avoiding her eyes so she won’t see the pain there. “Like I said, I wasn’t paying attention.”

Iris can’t explain the sudden lump in her throat, or why she suddenly wants to hug him and make him stop looking like that, like he’s just a little boy again. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

“That’s alright.” He gives her a half smile. “I haven’t exactly been forthcoming about it.”

“Still sorry.”

They share a smile and Iris goes back to carefully cleaning his face. The wipes are all slowly turning red with his blood, but at least it’s not gushing anymore She notices that he keeps leaning to one side, and she places her hand on the side of his face to make him face her again. “I’m sorry, I know it hurts, but you’re going to have to look at me,” she says. “I can’t do this properly otherwise.”

His Adam’s apple bobs once more as he nods again despite himself, and that’s when Iris notices that her hand is still on his face, the tips of her fingers brushing the edges of his hair, his skin soft and slightly feverish under her palm. “Sorry,” she says self-consciously, removing it. Iris tilts his head to the side, her face falling when she sees how many gashes there are on his neck. He must be in a lot more pain than he’s letting on. “Oh, Barry, what did you do yourself?” she murmurs, leaning in and studying the source of the bleeding, a gash hidden by his hair.

“Sorry,” he mumbles at his hands and she blinks down at him, not realising she was speaking aloud.

“I didn’t mean – you don’t have to apologise to me.”

“No, I do. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that before, with the interviews.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” she agrees. “But now I’m guessing that had something to do with your dad.”

“Smart woman.”

“That’s what they tell me. And apology accepted. Okay, Barry, this wound isn’t really that deep, it’s clean, and you don’t seem like you’re about to throw up, so I’m just going to clean everything again and you can wait for Larvan to get here.” Barry is obedient as she orders him to tilt his head, or look up, or to tell her when it’s hurting too much. She’s also aware of her hands on his face, on his neck, and in his hair. She’s fairly certain he can hear her heart threatening to burst out of her chest. Finally, she finishes and grabs his chin, tilting his head from side to side to check for more injuries. “W-What are you doing?” he asks uncertainly, probably afraid she’s going to attack him with more antiseptic. She laughs.

“I’m checking to make sure I haven’t missed anything.”

“Oh,” he says softly. She moves his head this way and that, shifting his hair out of the way. It’s distracting, the green of his eyes under the dim of the overhead lights, and her hands have a mind of their own. They want to stroke the strong line of his jaw, feel how soft and clean-shaven it is, and then thread her fingers through his soft brown hair. Then, without warning, he tentatively reaches out and pushes her glasses up her nose with a long forefinger. “They were sliding off,” he tells her, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh. Thank you.” She resumes her checking, feeling her face heat up, and then feels compelled to say something. “Barry?”

“Yes?”

“This wasn’t deep, but it could have been. If you had been just a little less careful, you could have died.”

“I know.”

“Barry.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t do it again.”

“’Kay.”

There’s something about the way he says it, so quick and so certain, that makes her look at him, and she finds that he’s looking at her with an expression she doesn’t recognise. Right then, however, is when her phone rings. “Sorry,” she says quickly, letting go of his jaw. “That’s me…Hello?”

“Iris?”

“Hey, Lin.”

“Are you okay?” her best friend demands. “You were supposed to be home hours ago.”

“Yeah,” she responds. She looks at Barry, who is frowning at her. “Sorry, Linda, I got held up. I’ll be home as soon as I can, okay?”

“What held you up?”

Iris opens her mouth to reply, but then someone says, “Detective Allen?” Iris realises that Larvan has arrived. She nods briefly at Iris and then starts tending to Barry. Unfortunately, Iris can practically hear Linda narrowing her ears and pursing her lips, because she’s heard the name. “Detective Allen? What are you doing with him?”

“Um,” Iris says. “It’s a long story.”

“Iris Ann West-”

“I’ll explain when I get home,” she says quickly, because she’s just spend the last thirty minutes touching Barry’s face, and she’s certain she’s another five seconds from doing something embarrassing, like kissing him goodbye or something.

“You’d better.”

Iris hangs up and turns to Larvan, who is examining Barry’s face. “Is he okay?”

“Well, he’s still standing,” he replies. “You did a great job, but I still want to check him over again.”

“Good, great,” Iris nods. She gathers up her stuff and looks at Barry, who has that strange expression on his face again. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. Are you okay getting home?”

“You shouldn’t really be alone, Barry,” Larvan tells him. “And you shouldn’t be driving, either. Injuries like this should always be monitored in case they worsen. Can I take you anywhere?”

“My mother’s house,” he replies. “I was going to go there tonight anyway.” Barry looks at her from underneath his eyelashes, and Iris knows it’s because of his father’s death, that maybe one or both of them don’t want to be alone. Iris nods again, adjusting her glasses. “Good to know. Goodnight.”

“Wait. Iris, wait,” Barry tries to stand up, but Larvan shakes his head, going through his medical bag, and Barry scowls in a way that’s so like him she can tell he’s almost back to normal. Then his face softens and he looks almost shy. “Thank you.”

The smile is pulled out of her, helpless and genuine. “You’re welcome.”

***

The next day, Barry is pacing outside of Iris’ office, a cup of coffee burning in his hands, wondering whether he should knock or go back downstairs. He doesn’t have a lot of time – Iris’ extra-shot Americano will get cold soon, and it’s only a matter of time before someone comes up here to ask for Dr. West’s help on a case, and they’ll find him debating whether to go up to the pretty girl and talk to her like they’re both in high school. He’s a detective, one of the most respected cops in this precinct, and perhaps its best detective. This should be easy.

And yet.

And yet when he thinks about last night, about her hands caressing his face and brushing his hair as she cleaned all the blood from it, it isn’t easy. When he thinks about how she gently turned his head from side to side, scanning his face to make sure he wasn’t more hurt than what she could see, it isn’t easy. And when he remembers how she’d looked at him, very firmly and very quietly ordering him to be more careful with himself, and not put himself in danger like that again, he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to thank her.

There had been something about her voice, the sadness and the worry, when she’d lamented how he’d hurt himself, that pulled that apology out of him. It was helpless and magnetic, like a penny being pulled to the surface of the water. Barry had managed to save it by saying it was about him yelling at her about the interviews, which he planned to do anyway, but it wasn’t. It was about how he should be better than this by now – it shouldn’t hurt this much, it shouldn’t make him seek dangerous distractions like it had.

But Iris had been there, and she’d talked to him, and fixed him, and for the first time in a long time he did not feel the grief as keenly as he always did. It was there, but then he’d look at her, her brows furrowed and eyes soft in the low light, and tell himself to _keep breathing, keep breathing, keep breathing_ , and he felt better. Less adrift.

Coffee seems like a weak way to say thank you after all of that.

But still, he has it, and he might as well give it to her. He checks his hair in the window of her office, feels like a complete idiot for doing it, and then knocks on the door.

“Come in!” she calls, and Barry takes a deep breath before going inside. Iris is facing away from him, looking at something on her desk, and then turns to face him. “How can I help…Oh. Ahem, good morning.”

“Morning,” he says quietly. She looks especially pretty today in a dark green figure-hugging dress and tiny silver earrings. He doesn’t say anything for a second, before thrusting the coffee at her. “I got you this to say thank you for yesterday. It’s an Americano with an extra shot from Jitterbugs.”

“Thanks,” she grins, taking it from him. “My roommate drank all the coffee, this is perfect. How do you know my coffee order?”

“Because you always send out for the same thing,” he points out. “And I want to – apologise-”

“Apologise for what?” she wants to know. “You didn’t do anything wrong. And I see your injuries weren’t even that bad. Are you feeling okay?”

Barry puts a hand to the single bandage just under his hair, still not quite used to its presence. Larvan just reiterated what Iris told him, that he was fine because the wound wasn’t deep, but he’d probably be more prone to headaches. “Yes, thank you. And I really should apologise, Iris-”

“And I told you, you really don’t have to.”

“But I – your friend, Linda,” he points out, remembering the phone call. “You had plans with her and I ruined your evening.”

“We were going to make fajitas and watch _The Good Wife_ ,” Iris laughs. “Netflix will still be here tomorrow.”

He rubs the back of his head. “Well, can I get you a new first-aid kit, or…”

“You mean the first-aid kit I stole from the supply closet in the hospital where my dad works?”

Barry sighs. “I shouldn’t even have gone out in that state in the first place, it was unprofessional.”

“It wasn’t unprofessional, it was human,” she tells him. “You were grieving. Cut yourself some slack, Detective.”

 _Oh_. She’s back to calling him ‘detective’. “Right,” he says. “Well, I put in that request for you.”

“Thank you. And just to let you know, Freddie confirmed everything we thought. There was enough nitrosamine in there to poison someone, so who knows what they were doing to those other families?”

“Once we cross-reference those with all the people from the witness list, we should have something to give to Eddie.”

Iris smiles at him. “Looks like we make quite a team, Detective.”

“Barry,” he says immediately. She gives him a curious look.

“I’m sorry?”

 _I like it when you call me ‘Barry’_. “I would like for…You can just call me Barry.”

“Okay, Barry,” she says. “In that case, you can call me Iris.”

“Iris.”

“Yes?”

Too late, he realised he’s just said her name for the sake of saying it, and he feels a blush creeping into his cheeks. “Let me know when you finish reading what I gave you, Iris,” he tells her curtly, and she nods, still smiling. “Of course. Barry.”

***

The weekend and the next few days pass by in a haze of work and activity, not least because the Royal Flush gang rob Central City Bank on Saturday morning and it takes two days, a car chase and a shoot-out to find them, which leaves Barry exhausted and almost unable to get out of bed on Monday morning. Lawton is much the same, and they spend the rest of the day making jokes about it to try not to collapse from the exhaustion. He also realises that he kind of has a crush on Iris.

It’s snuck up on him, to be quite honest. But now he finds excuses to go up to her lab and talk to her. Iris never minds and usually has something new to tell him about, from their case to some new development at STAR Labs to something she’s watched on television. He brought her coffee again, feeling emboldened by that first time, sort of like ‘hey, I’m not terrible _all_ the time – I brought you coffee!’. She happened to need to ask him about something in one of the notes, and then it sort of snowballed from there. Barry’s also noticed that, for all the way she seems to forget to eat lunch or which cases belong to whom, there’s something about her photographic memory and general ability to figure out what happened in a crime scene with barely a glance that’s ridiculously enthralling.

“…So because of the skid marks and the point of impact on the glass,” she tells him once over their coffee, “you could tell that the attack was staged. You should arrest the driver, and the owner of the electronics store.”

He stares at her. The case she’d been talking about had been in their backlog for months, and Iris looked at four pictures and deduced who it was. “How…How did you do that?”

“Practice, a photographic memory, and I’ve kind of got a thing for ballistics.”

“Ballistics, huh?” he grins, raising his eyebrows. “Sexy.”

“Duh, Barry. All my science is sexy.” Iris giggles and lets out that adorable snort, which makes them both laugh harder. It’s so natural and easy for him to be here with her like this that he doesn’t notice when he becomes used to it. So used to it that when he makes his way into his office on his day off and finds that the coroner’s reports have all arrived and he goes up to give them to Iris, a smile already stretching his lips at the thought of getting to see her smile, he’s surprised when he sees that her office is empty.

“Allen,” Lawton says when he makes his way down to her desk. “What are you doing here? It’s your day off.”

“I just wanted to check some things. Hey, have you seen Iris?”

Lawton gives him a glance from her computer screen, one delicately-arched eyebrow rising and a knowing smile on her lips. “Do you mean Dr. West?”

“Yes, Dr. West. Do you know where she is? I have those reports for her.”

“She’s out sick today. She called this morning – Larvan said she sounded horrible on the phone.”

“Sick?”

“Happens to the best of us.”

Lawton walks off then, and Barry deflates. He can at least admit to himself that he’s become accustomed to their meetings, and he’s about to go up and leave the reports on her desk when he gets an idea. Before he can talk himself out of it, he goes to his computer and pulls up the personnel files, writes down her address, and then makes his way to Jitterbugs. After bribing one of the cooks there to make him two containers of coup and a dozen dinner rolls before lunch starts, he finds himself in front of her apartment and knocking on her door, studiously ignoring what it could mean that he’s outside a colleague’s door with soup.

She doesn’t answer for a minute, and he starts to feel ridiculous, like maybe she went to the doctor, or maybe she’s sleeping-

“Barry!” Iris is in sweatpants and shirt with her hair curly and tied up in a scarf, and she’s staring at him in shock. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard you were sick,” he says, gesturing to the steaming bag of food, “and I brought you soup. I thought it…might help.”

She adjusts her glasses and sniffles. “You can’t – Barry, I look _terrible_ -”

“You do not,” he says dismissively, because it’s true. Her eyes are a little watery and her nose is slightly red, but she still looks beautiful. “You always look great. You barely even look sick.”

“Oh, believe me, I’m – _atchoo!_ – sick,” she groans, and then eyes the bag. “That does smell really good.”

Barry grins at her. “See? Come on, take it. And I have to give you these reports anyway.”

“Now _that’s_ exciting,” she says. She pauses. “I have been sneezing all over this apartment, and-”

“Don’t worry, Iris. Besides, I’ve caught the flu this season already.”

“Okay, but I warned you.”

Iris and Linda’s apartment is warm and cosy, with lots of pictures of them and their friends through the years. There’s the faint smell of lavender in the air as she leads him to their lounge, where she’s clearly been curled up in front of the TV amongst blankets and pillows. “My roommate told me if I did anything other than sit on this couch drinking cough syrup, she would scalp me,” she explains, sitting on the couch and gesturing for him to take the armchair.

“But she can’t see you,” he points out, and Iris laughs.

“Linda sees everything, that woman has powers.” She pauses. “I don’t know how – Barry, you really didn’t have to bring me soup-”

 “No,” he says, “which is exactly why I did. Besides, I didn’t just bring you soup, I brought you rolls and all those coroner’s reports I promised you.”

“Yes!” Iris holds her hands out for them. “Gimme, I’ve been looking forward to these.”

“You’ve been looking forward to coroner’s reports?” Barry laughs.

“You have your interests, Barry. I have mine.” She leans over them, adjusting her glasses. “Besides, this case is really something. Did I tell you what I found out?”

“No, what?”

“I’ve matched each of the reports about damaged apartments to a witness and come up with a case for the witness tampering. Hannah Bates’ damaged stove? That could easily lead to a gas explosion.”

“Reckless endangerment,” Barry says.

“Exactly,” she nods. “And there’s more. Toni Woodward was one of the witnesses to a drug exchange, and she ended up with faulty ceiling tiles. Danielle Black had bedbugs – she works in a bank and reported some discrepancies in how they were spending.” She pauses to sneeze, and Barry hands her some Kleenex. “Thank you. So, I was thinking when I go through these reports, we can organise them and we can talk to Eddie about them. What happens with that, by the way?”

“What do you mean?”

“Does Eddie want us to testify as expert witnesses, or…”

Barry blinks. “Yes – Yeah, I’m sorry, did I not tell you that? I’m sorry, I should have asked you-”

“No, it’s okay,” she says. “I just wanted to know. I’ve never done one of those before, are they hard?”

“They can be, but I don’t think you’ll find it hard,” he says simply. “All you have to do is know what you’re talking about. The hardest part of those is getting people to like you, so you’ll be perfect.” He avoids her eyes, aware of what he just said, and gestures to the bag. “Come on, eat your soup before it gets cold.”

“Right.” She fishes one out of the bag and opens the lid, inhaling. “God, this smells amazing. What is it?”

“I think that’s tomato and chorizo. Apparently, all the peppers help clear your sinuses. And the rolls are warm, if you want those. Sorry I didn’t get you dessert.”

“Barry, you’ve done more than enough. Besides, Linda gets me these brownies from Jitterbugs with gummy bears in them and they are the best things I’ve ever tasted. I swear to God, if I ever met the guy who came up with those, I’d marry him and have his kids.” She pauses, catching him smiling. “What?”

“Uh, nothing.” At least he knows she likes his brownies. “So, what was your plan today?”

“Lay here and try not to die. Actually,” she adds, a slow smile appearing on her face, “you just interrupted me in the middle of a Commander Carl: Space Marshall marathon.”

Barry groans. “You’re kidding.”

“I never kid about the safety of our galaxy, Detective.” She giggles at his incredulous expression. “Come on, watch one episode, and then I’ll stop talking about it.”

“Really?”

“No, of course not, but please?”

Barry sighs, because Iris apparently does that doe-eyed thing without even realising it. “Eat your soup and I’ll watch.”

Iris lets out an excited squeal and grabs the remote control, and he tries not to smile at her exuberance as they settle in front of her television. Barry takes off his jacket and Iris curls back against the blankets and pillows, obediently eating her soup and rolls. He finds it completely adorable how into it Iris gets, excitedly yet patiently explaining everything about the show and what it all means. Privately, he knows he just likes to see her smiling, and wonders what he could do to get her to smile that often. After she finishes her soup they just sit together in strangely comfortable silence. When the marathon finishes, Barry stares at the screen. “Wait, is it over?” he demands.

“Yup,” she says. “That was the last episode this season.”

“But – But what about Sergeant Silver? Do they get married? And what about the alien invasion? What if they can’t cure the crew?”

Iris shrugs. “Guess we’ll have to wait.” She grins at him. “You are so full of it; you were enjoying every bit of this.”

“What? No, I wasn’t.”

“Yes you were, Barry. When Carl told Sergeant Silver he was giving up his captaincy for her, you were totally welling up.”

“…I might – _might_ – have thought the show was better than I expected,” he admits, and rolls his eyes at her grin. “Whatever. Are you feeling better?”

“A little,” she says. “I’m just tired. I was going to watch a documentary about Madam Miracle next, if you’re interested.”

Barry looks at her. “Madam Miracle?”

She wrinkles her nose. “It’s lame, I know. Everyone loves a superhero. But she’s kind of the reason I became a CSI.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Like, you see her everyday on TV moving things with her mind and hitting things with lightning and _flying_ , and you want to be a hero like her.” She smiles faintly. “I remember I wanted to be a hero like her, but some of the kids at school said I was too small and I didn’t have superpowers. And she said that you didn’t need powers and a suit to help people, you could just use whatever you had.”

Barry smiles warmly at her. “She sounds nice.”

“She’s the best.”

He pauses for a moment, wonders whether he should tell her about his connection to Madam Miracle, about his grandmother, but thinks better of it. He’s never told anyone that story. “Okay, so since we’ve established that Commander Carl isn’t an unwatchable nerd,” he continues, “I want to go from the beginning of the season and see if I can spot all the clues. Where did that telepathic gorilla come from?”

They watch and talk some more, Barry relaxing as he realises that Iris is surprisingly easy to talk to – though she does scowl at him when he makes her drink her cough syrup. Eventually, though, her replies become shorter and quieter.

“…Gave the crew that alien infection,” he finishes his long explanation. He frowns, noticing that she isn’t replying, and that’s when he sees that she’s sleeping, her cheek pillowed in her palm over all the pillows. He gets up and stretches, turning off the television, pulling the covers over her and pushing her hair out of her face. A smile tugs at his lips as he watches her sleep, and he reaches down to gently slide her glasses off her face – there are any manner of unfortunate incidents that could happen if they fall off or she rolls over – and puts them in her case.

Iris looks strangely vulnerable without her glasses, but peaceful, her mouth slightly open and her skin smooth, lacking the cute furrow that appears between her brows when she’s thinking. He strokes her cheek with the back of a finger and she leans into his touch, sighing softly, and his breath catches in his throat. Barry straightens, rubbing the back of his neck. Here he is watching her sleep like some kind of creeper, when all he was supposed to do was bring her soup and make sure she was feeling better. Shaking his head, he walks into the kitchen, cleans up the food, and labels what’s left with reheating instructions. Then, after a while, he hears a voice that makes him jump.

“ _Who the hell are you_?” someone demands. Barry turns.

Iris’ roommate is pretty and dark-haired, and currently looks like she is seconds away from murdering him.

“Detective Bartholomew Allen,” he replies. He eyes her handbag. “And I take it you’re Linda. Are you going to hit me with that, Linda?”

“I might,” she shoots back, but then her face clears. “Wait, Detective Allen? The guy at work who hates Iris?”

“What? I don’t – I don’t hate her. Why would she think I hate her?”

“Apparently, you guys didn’t get off to a great start,” she replies, setting her bag down. But she’s still eyeing him suspiciously. “What are you doing here? Where’s Iris?”

“I came to give Iris soup,” he tells her, “and she’s sleeping in the lounge.”

“You brought her soup?” Linda repeats incredulously. Barry squirms a little, because Linda and Lawton and the chef who he’d bribed to make the soup this morning all have the same knowing look. He raises his chin.

“Yes. When people are sick, you bring them soup. Besides, I had some reports to give her.”

“If you made my best friend work when she’s sick-”

“Of course I didn’t make her work when she’s sick! I did have to wrestle those reports away from her, though. Does she always get this excited about forensics?”

“I have been her best friend for twenty years, and that fact still amazes me,” she says, shaking her head. Her face softens. “Well, I’m back and I can look after her. I’m sure you have somewhere to be…”

“Right,” he nods. They go through to the lounge, where Iris is still sleeping on the couch. “That’s – good idea. Look, I know Iris doesn’t like chicken soup and you do, so there are some rolls in the bag if you want them.”

“How do you know I like chicken soup?”

“Iris talks a _lot_.”

“That she does,” Linda admits, grinning at him. “And thanks for keeping her company – what did you guys do?”

“Watched _Commander Carl_.”

“ _Dude_. I can’t even sit through three of those episodes without getting distracted. And she gets so excited, and I feel so bad…”

“I didn’t mind, I had fun,” he says easily. He looks back at Iris’ sleeping figure and rubs the back of his neck. “Look, could you tell her to call me if she doesn’t understand something in the cases? And that I hope she feels better?”

“Of course,” she smiles. “And thanks again for looking after her. I had to work and I felt bad leaving her by herself. But now I know she had you…”

“Really, it was my pleasure. She’s…well, I think everyone at work knows she’s invaluable.”

“That she is,” Linda says slowly. She sticks her hand out. “It was nice to meet you, Detective.”

“Barry.”

“Barry.”

***

“He loves you.”

Iris rolls her eyes and gestures for her best friend to pass her the Parmesan. “He does not, Linda. We’re just…friends, I guess.”

“Nuh-uh,” she disagrees, putting on the coffee-maker. “We are talking about this. I waited two days.”

“Lin-”

“ _Two days_. I let your mother visit you, I went to the game with Wally, I did some work for Missy, and not once did I mention the fact that he brought you soup in the middle of the day and watched TV with you. I did not mention the fact that he cleaned up our kitchen afterwards and got _me_ soup even though he never met me before, and when we did meet, I threatened him with my handbag.”

“Linda!” Iris puts the cheese down. “You said you were nice to him!”

“I threatened him, I didn’t actually hit him,” she scoffs, waving a hand dismissively. “Not the point. And finally, I did not mention that he looked after you and stayed with you until you fell asleep. But we are talking about it now – and I’m telling you, that man is in love with you.”

“And I’m telling you, he isn’t,” Iris says tiredly. “He was just being nice.”

Linda gives her a sceptical look as she moves around the kitchen looking for black pepper. She’s still a little surprised that Barry showed up to her apartment with soup and rolls and those coroner’s reports, especially because she looked and felt like death warmed up, but he was there. And then he spent the day with her, watching her favourite shows and talking about everything and insisting that she take her medicine. She hadn’t quite realised when she fell asleep, she simply awoke to Linda simply saying that Barry had to go but that he hoped she felt better, but she does remember a feeling of contentment at all the time they spent together.

But that does not mean he’s in love with her. Because that would be ridiculous.

“Hot detective goes to Jitterbugs to get gourmet soup for a girl he’s not in love with,” Linda says in a bored voice. “The story practically writes itself; Nicole Beharie should play you in the movie.”

 “Barry isn’t in love with me. He was probably just returning the favour,” Iris continues, spreading black pepper over pasta and cheese. She realises what she’s just said when Linda’s eyes widen.

“Favour? What favour?”

Iris hadn’t told Linda about fixing Barry up when he came back injured from going after those drug dealers, mostly because she wanted to avoid the conversation that she knew was about to happen, but also because she didn’t feel it was her place. She hadn’t seen Barry that vulnerable before or since, and she got the feeling that it wasn’t something he let people see of him very often. But she could tell Linda without revealing that, at least.

“We weren’t working late on a case,” she explains. “Last week when I was late home. He was out on a collar, and he got hurt pretty bad. I didn’t want him to wait for a medic because there was a lot of blood, so I sort of stopped the bleeding and cleaned him up before he got there. So,” she continues, sprinkling the pasta with a final layer of mozzarella, “he was just returning the favour. Now do you believe me when I say he’s not in love with me?”

Linda lets out a short laugh. “What, after you straight up Florence Nightingale’d him?

“You’re impossible.”

“You didn’t see the way he was looking at you, all moony-eyed and adorable.” She pauses. “And I think you feel something for him too.”

“And now you’re ridiculous!”

“If I’m so ridiculous,” she points out, “why are you getting up two hours before you’re due to go into work to make him mac and cheese?” When Iris doesn’t reply, she laughs. “Oh, I get it. ‘Returning the favour’. Because that’s what we’re calling it now.”

“Linda, seriously.”

“Be careful, or you guys’ll be ‘returning the favour’ in a closet somewhere.”

Iris blushes. “Stop it!”

“Actually,” Linda muses, “Barry looks like the type to do it on a desk.”

“Go away and get ready for work,” Iris tells her, “or I’m telling Wally to get you an orange poncho for Christmas.”

Linda sticks her tongue out at her but obediently heads to the shower, leaving Iris alone with her thoughts as she puts the mac and cheese in the oven. She’s finally well enough to go back to work, which is good because she’s been going a little crazy not getting to do anything but make notes on things. At least she went through all those reports, matching them with cases linked to the Santini family so she could send it back to Barry. For whom she is indeed making mac and cheese.

They are _friends_ , Iris tells herself. They got off to a rocky start, but now they get along and hang out and enjoy each other’s company without it being love – Iris’ tiny, _tiny_ crush notwithstanding. Friends look after each other when they’re sick, it’s nothing weird at all. Besides, this is her returning the favour, because the two things are different. Barry giving her the soup was just him doing a nice thing while she was unwell. He didn’t have to do that whereas she couldn’t very well leave him bleeding in the middle of the precinct, could she? So she’s making him mac and cheese because of that, and it’s nothing to do with the fact that she hasn’t had that much fun in the longest time and she really, really wants to see him smile again.

Nope, nothing to do with that at all.

While she’s waiting for Linda to get out of the shower, her phone rings. She checks that her best friend is still preoccupied and shuts the door to her room. “Wallace Rudolph West,” she says tiredly. “What did I say after you put the ring in the dessert?”

Wally’s voice is small and reluctant. “Keep it simple.”

“So why,” she asks slowly, “did you feel the need to try to propose to Linda _on the Jumbotron_?”

“I thought it would be cute, and a great memory! It happens all the time, and all the girls are usually so happy-”

“Your girlfriend is a _sports reporter_ ,” she tells him through gritted teeth. “She sees that every time she goes to a game, and she hates it. You’re lucky you told me what you were planning to do so I could tell you to cancel it.”

“I still think it could have been a great story for our grandkids,” he mumbles, and Iris laughs.

“Wal, please. Down on one knee, pretty speech, show her the ring. It’s worked for centuries. And then Linda will come home stupidly happy and preparing to plan a wedding instead of trying to nose around in my personal life.”

“Wait,” he says. “Are you talking about the hot detective guy who brought you soup? Because he sounds like a keeper.”

“I hate you both.”

***

“She’s not here yet,” Lawton says, coming to sit on the edge of his desk. Barry tries to pretend like he wasn’t watching the atrium at the other end of the precinct, shuffling the papers on his desk and clearing his throat.

“Who’s not here yet?”

“Dr. West,” she answers, a smile in her voice. “You know, your cute little coffee buddy.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Dr. West is my colleague, nothing more.”

“Tell that to your face, partner.”

“Did you come here to troll me about things that don’t exist or do you actually have anything worthwhile to tell me, Deadshot?”

As expected, she scowls at him, and drops any mention of the fact that Barry was indeed watching the door for Iris. She called him last night to tell him that she’d be back, and he’s kind of embarrassed to admit that he got stupidly happy about it. In any case, Lawton pulls out three thick envelopes. “Apparently, Christmas came early for us.”

“What are those?”

“Subpoenas,” she replies, handing him one with ‘ _Detective Bartholomew H. Allen_ ’ stamped. “Eddie sent them this morning – I guess he really liked what you and Iris were working on.”

“So we’re going to the trial?” he asks. “He thinks we might win?”

Lawton grins. “We might, partner.”

Barry sits back in his desk, the subpoena between his hands. Despite the fact that Linda was very strict about Iris not working while sick (‘She can’t kill me, I changed the Netflix password this morning’), she diligently sent him the last of her notes on everything. After compiling all the information together, Barry, Iris and Lawton essentially found that the Santini family, who own stakes in Baldwin Towers Development Project, were using their influence to scare people into keeping quiet about things. If a person lived in Baldwin Towers or any related buildings, and saw something like a drug exchange or had information on someone who’d gone missing, they were quietly told to keep it to themselves. If not, they were subtly and silently threatened, through bedbugs in their sheets or broken boilers. If this continued, another warning would be given. If they still did not stop, they were killed.

Tommy Larsen was helping Detective Lance with a case; Hannah Bates was helping Barry and Lawton. Hannah Bates saw the broken stove in her apartment, saw what had happened to Tommy, and broke off contact. Tommy Larsen did not, which is why he’s dead.

And there are countless more like it – Barry spend hours putting them all together. Iris found coroner’s reports that said people died with all kinds of poisons in their systems…after mysterious circumstances in which they were found to be near a crime scene near the Santinis. Lawton had trawled through interviews where witnesses had become more and more reluctant to talk to them, and worked with their investigator to find out why they had pulled out. Barry had gone through the case again with a fine-tooth comb, coming up with a timeline for when each of these events had happened. He had to admit that he’d been letting himself be hopeful about this, but that doesn’t compare to the feeling of it being real and possible.

“Eddie wants us to come in this week,” she continues, “because we’re scheduled to appear in front of the prosecution and defence on Tuesday.”

“Seriously? Why is the turnaround so tight?”

“Judge wants to get this over with – thinks Eddie is grasping at straws.” She laughs, shaking her head. “Wait till she sees what hit her.”

“Who did we get?”

“The Honourable Tatiana Perez.”

Barry blinks. “Perez? For real? She can smell bullshit from a mile away!”

“Which is why we need to put our best foot forward.”

“Mm.” Barry’s eyes fall on the remaining subpoena with ‘ _Dr. Iris A. West_ ’ written on the front. “I’ll just give that to Iris when she gets here,” he says casually and she grins at him.

“Do you mean Dr. West?”

“You know what I mean, Deadshot,” he says, but apparently, that only works once a day.

“Have you told your mom about her?” she continues. “I’m sure she’d like to meet her. They would get on like a house on fire.”

“ _Deadshot_ ,” he warns.

“You would make some seriously pretty kids.”

“Floriana!”

“You know I’m right.”

“That’s – we’re not…” He lets out a breath through his nose, and she cocks her head to the side. “It’s okay if you like her, you know. The world isn’t going to collapse if Detective Allen lets his guard down once in a while. Besides,” she says, sliding off his desk, “anything’s better than _Becky Cooper_.”

***

“…yes, Mom, I remembered,” Iris says, dumping all her stuff on her desk. She sighs, laughing. “Well, because you reminded me, and then Linda reminded me, and then Mama Ida called and reminded me too. Which – I can’t believe you told her I had the flu.”

“She was worried!” her mother says defensively, talking about her grandmother. “Plus, the jambalaya was her idea.”

“And I told you, I’m fine,” she replies, eyeing the food that her mother made when she came over a couple of nights ago. “I don’t need illegal peppers to sweat out the fever.” Mostly because Barry’s soup already did that.

“Whatever you say. Now, how did it go with Wally?”

“Mom, that boy tried to propose to her on the Jumbotron,” she replies. “I was about to murder him, I swear.”

“Iris,” her mother laughs. “He wants it to be special. Most people dream of only being proposed to once; it has to be perfect. Think about yourself – you’d want to have a memorable, special proposal, wouldn’t you?”

“Well, yeah,” she admits. “Of course I would. But Wally’s never going to have a memory if he never gets around to doing it.” Someone knocks on the door to her office. “Come in – Barry!”

He’s holding an envelope, and smiling at her as she tries to get her mother off the phone. Who, unfortunately, has just heard Barry’s voice. “Is that him?”

“Is it who?” she asks.

“The detective you like!”

Iris turns away from him, frowning. “I don’t _like_ – who told you that?”

“Wally. Linda told him. Well, Linda told Cecile, and _she_ told him.”

“I’m going to kill everyone in this family,” Iris mutters, and Barry clears his throat.

“Iris?” he asks. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” she says quickly, turning back to him. “Mom, seriously, I have to call you back.”

“I can come back,” he tells her helpfully, but she shakes her head.

“Is he tall?” her mother asks. “He sounds tall. And is ‘Barry’ short for ‘Bartholomew’?”

“Yeah, but-”

“That’s such a classic name.”

“Mom-”

“Ooh, wait! Ask him if he likes jambalaya!”

“I love you too, Mom,” she tells her forcefully. “Bye!” Barry raises his eyebrows.

“Sounded like a fun conversation,” he smiles.

“Yes, the next family dinner is going to be fun,” she replies, putting her phone down. “How are you?”

“Fine, thank you. And you? You look better. Not that you looked bad before,” he adds quickly. “You never look – Just, you know, you look…better.”

“Well, I’m fine, Barry,” she tells him kindly. “And thanks again for the soup, it was great. I had no idea Jitterbugs made gourmet soup – I need to go there some time.”

“Maybe you will,” he shrugs, a little too casually.

“Maybe. Anyway, I wanted to say thank you, so I made you something…”

Barry watches as she turns away from him again. “Iris, if this is a cake with Commander Carl on it-”

“It’s not, but that is a great idea that makes this one look of kind of lame,” she says. She comes up with a casserole dish and Barry’s eyes widen when he realises what it is. “Iris, did you make me-”

“Mac and cheese,” she admits. She adjusts her glasses, suddenly shy. “Yeah, it – I mean, I like making it, and you got me the soup, and this isn’t like the store-bought recipe, it’s a pretty special recipe I came up with myself-”

“Oh, yeah?” he grins. “What makes it so special?”

“Now, that would be giving away my secret, wouldn’t it, detective? And I – wait, Barry, what are you doing?”

He’s gotten up and started rooting in her draws, gently moving her to the side when she gets in his way. He gives her a look. “Duh, Iris. I’m looking for a fork.”

“You want to eat it now?” she demands.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I thought you might want it for lunch, or dinner…”

Barry stares at her as if she’s lost her mind. “But it’s here _now_.”

“You can’t have mac and cheese now, it’s the middle of the morning!”

“So? Great, I found one.”

“You are unbelievable,” she mutters as he goes to sit back down. “And how did you know I had a fork in here?”

“Did I mention how much you talk?” He pulls the mac and cheese towards him and just starts eating it. Iris resists the urge to start giggle. “Do you like it?”

“ _Mm_ , it’s amazing, Iris,” he says, nodding enthusiastically. “What’s the secret recipe?”

“Nuh-uh,” she tells him. “You’ll have to pry that out of my cold, dead hands on my last day on this earth, Detective.”

“Consider it a date.”

Iris freezes even as Barry keeps eating. She pushes her glasses up her nose. “So, even though you saved me a trip, I’m guessing you didn’t come up here to hear me argue with my mother.”

“Oh, right.” He swallows and hands her an envelope, which she studies. “It’s a subpoena for the trial.”

“Oh, wow,” she says. “ADA Thawne sure does work fast.”

“He’s really excited about this, so yeah. But he wants to meet with us this week to prepare for the trial. We’re going to be cross-examined by some pretty nasty lawyers, so he wants to make sure we’re ready.”

“Sounds good,” she nods. “Just let me know. Oh, Barry?”

He blinks at her. “What?”

“You, um – you have cheese on your face.”

“Oh.” He wipes one side of his face – the wrong one. “Did I get it?”

“No, Bar.” Iris presses her lips together when Barry misses again, and walks around to face him, grabbing a Kleenex on the way. “Look, let me do it.” She grabs his chin, tilting it upwards, and wipes the cheese off his face, before depositing it in the bin (unaware that a blush has spread over Barry’s cheeks as he gapes). “Better than blood, anyway,” she says lightly.

“Yeah, uh, yeah,” he says. “Thanks. And thanks for this, it was great.”

“Did you – you ate the whole thing!”

“It was good!”

“Unbelievable.”

***

The State’s Attorney’s office is located uptown, past the hospital and CCPN and just before the financial district, and Barry, Iris and Lawton make their way there on Friday morning to talk to Eddie about the case. “So how long have you guys been friends with ASA Thawne?” Iris asks as the walk towards the building.

“Eddie,” Barry corrects. “If you call him that, it’ll go right to his head.”

“And we all know how terrible that can be,” Lawton tells him wryly, “Detective.”

Barry glares at her and Iris laughs. “Anyway, we met in college, and we’ve been friends ever since. We both went to Berkley, and then when he moved here he got the job as an associate at the State’s Attorney’s office.”

“Wow, you guys go way back,” Iris says, surprised. “And the State’s Attorney’s office is a pretty sweet connection.”

“Oh, didn’t Allen tell you?” Lawton asks. “He’s got connections coming out the wazoo.”

“Really?”

“Well, he went to high school with the mayor, and he knows Olivia Queen.” Iris gapes at him.

“You did _not_ tell me you know Olivia Queen!” she practically squeals. Barry sighs.

“I know Olivia Queen.”

“God, I had such a crush on her in high school.”

“Girl, me too,” Lawton adds.

“Everyone did,” he shrugs. Lawton nudges him.

“Not Allen though,” she says. “Not his type.”

“My type?”

“You know, the whole tall blonde with blue eyes deal. There was Patty, and Fiona, and, God, _Beck_ -”

“Oh, we’re talking about types?” Barry interrupts. “Maybe we should tell Dr. West about Harley Quinn, then.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “Don’t you dare.”

“Because he was a lot of fun, let me-”

“Okay,” Iris laughs. “I think maybe we dial it back a little. I don’t need to hear about Harley Quinn. And there’s nothing wrong with… having a type, I guess.”

Barry frowns at her, inexplicably about to tell her that his type has changed, when they arrive at the office and are buzzed up to find Eddie. Barry grins when he finds him in the lobby talking to a blonde man in a tweed suit he’s never seen before, and walks ahead of Iris and Lawton to greet him. “Hey, pretty boy.”

His friend grins at him, shaking his hand. “Barry, you made it! Hey, this is-”

“Freddie!”

They turn to see that Iris has launched herself into the arms of the man Barry doesn’t recognise, who is laughing as he hugs her. “Hi, Iris.”

“You guys know each other?” Lawton asks, and Iris smiles at them.

“This is Freddie Smoak, he owns that lab that I sent the samples to,” she answers. Then she hits him playfully. “Also known as the jackass who didn’t tell me he was in town!”

“Well, I called him,” Eddie says. “Since we’re using the results from his lab in the trial, I need him to give some background on how it works. I know we have you, Dr. West-”

“Iris,” she tells him, still smiling. “It’s nice to meet you, ASA Thawne.”

“You too, Iris. But I wanted to get to grips with all the knowledge myself, since I’m the one who’s going to be up there doing all the talking.”

“Freddie, you came all the way from Star City for this?” Iris asks, looking up at him. “I thought you had a meeting with Wayne Industries, or Stagg, or-”

“Queen,” he answers. “Besides, I called you and left a message this morning.”

“Oh. I totally forgot to check.”

Freddie laughs, shaking his head. “Of course you did. And I knew you were involved in this, and …it’s you.” He turns to Barry and Lawton. “And anything for Central City’s finest, right?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Eddie says quickly. “Barry, Lawton, this is Frederick Smoak. Freddie, this is Detective Bartholomew Allen, Detective Floriana Lawton…and you know Iris.”

“Of course,” he says, grinning down at her, and she beams back up at him.

“How’d you guys meet?” Barry asks evenly, trying not to concentrate on the fact that Iris’ hand is still on Freddie’s arm.

“Oh, we met-” Iris starts.

“It was in-” Freddie says.

“Oh, I’m sorry-” Iris laughs.

“You should-” Freddie tries

Both of them just start laughing, and Lawton puts a hand over her mouth. “My God, there’s two of them.”

“Sorry,” Freddie says finally, wiping his eyes behind his black glasses. “We met in college. Although I didn’t think we’d end up doing stuff like this.”

“Speaking of,” Eddie continues, “we should get started. We having a meeting with the boss this evening and I wanted to get everything squared away.”

Eddie leads them all to a conference room; Iris loops her arm through Freddie’s and they immediately start talking about something to do with centrifuges. “Looks like you’re not the only one to go way back with a tall, blue-eyed blonde, Allen,” Lawton says. Eddie looks at both of them. “What are you talking about? And Barry, why are you making that face?”

“What face?”

“That face.”

Barry frowns. “This is just my face.” Lawton narrows her eyes at him, but then shrugs as they all sit down at the table. Eddie sits at the head of the table, having organised little place cards for everyone to. Lawton sits next to Freddie, while Iris sits next to Barry. “The purpose of today is to prepare for the trial, and make sure you’re ready for what the defendant’s team might throw at you,” he explains. “Freddie, you know what the case is about?”

“You said that the Santinis were using their influence in the Baldwin Towers complexes to engage in covert witness tampering,” he explains. “And you studied coroner’s reports and crime scenes to find it. How did you find that out, Iris?”

“Well, it was Barry and Floriana, mostly,” she admits, gesturing them. “I just helped them.”

“We couldn’t have done it without you, Iris,” Floriana tells her. “Besides, it was fun to have someone new on the team.”

“Right,” Eddie agrees. “Barry, Flo and Iris will actually be testifying in the trial, because they independently collected evidence to do with the case. Freddie, I just need to talk to you and Iris so we can get an idea of what your lab does, since she used yours. And then you can stay for the rest of it in case we need to subpoena you later. Okay?”

“Sounds good.”

“And you three,” he says. “I’m just going to give you some questions on what you’re going to be asked so you’re ready. Now, Barry and Lawton have done this before, Iris, so I’ll have to be a little meaner to you, but I’m sure you’ll do great.” He shuffles some papers and begins. “So, Freddie, your lab is both for public and private use…”

***

Eddie is one of Barry’s closest friends and one of the nicest people he knows, but he’s also a damn good lawyer. By the time they take a break in the late afternoon for lunch and coffee, he’s exhausted. The others are the same, with Lawton demanding that someone get her lunch and Iris fretting about the entire thing.

“That was terrible,” she groans, her head in her hands.

“No it wasn’t, Iris,” Barry says, facing her. “You did great.”

“He’s right,” Eddie tells her, laughing. “The whole point of these things is for the other side to undermine you and make it seem like you don’t know what you’re talking about. Clearly, you do.”

Iris bites her lip, and Barry gives her an encouraging smile. Eddie had spent the past couple of hours asking Barry about the different cases they’d been taking to do with the Santinis, Lawton was covering the witnesses, and Iris was covering the forensic evidence. Eddie had launched question after question at her, asking why she had decided to look at the coroner’s reports, how exactly these were a danger to people, and countless others. Personally, Barry thought she’d done brilliantly, and was kind of amazed that she remembered all that without looking anything up.

“Are you sure?” she asks.

“I’m sure.”

“Think of it like those debates we used to have in the science club, Iris,” Freddie tells her helpfully. She looks at him.

“Those were different – I was the president, they had to like me,” she says. “And you know the best one was Ray Palmer.”

“You guys had science club debates?” Lawton asks.

“Yes, we were the coolest.”

“Well, Iris, you _were_ a cheerleader,” Freddie points out. “So you can hardly talk.”

“You were a cheerleader?” Lawton repeats. “Okay, clearly, I’m not getting you drunk enough on Fridays. How did you become a cheerleader?”

She shrugs. “Well, my mother made me do all these dance lessons when I was a kid, and then Ray dared me to join, and it was fun. Besides, they mostly just needed someone petite to stand on top of the pyramid.”

“You mean ‘short’,” Barry smirks.

“I said _petite_ , Detective.”

“Ay, forget I asked,” Lawton says dismissively. “Eddie, when’s the food getting here? I want to hear about all the gossip in this place.”

Barry stands. “I need a coffee, actually. Do any of you want anything?”

“I’ll have one,” Iris tells him, and Freddie gets up to join Barry. “I’ll help, I need something before the food gets here.”

They leave the others in the conference room, Eddie telling them a story that already has Lawton in tears, and Barry looks over at Freddie. He’s a pretty slim guy, though not as tall as Barry is, and has glasses that are even thicker than Iris’, as well as a pocket watch in his tweed jacket. “I don’t know how you guys do this all the time,” Freddie says, shaking his head. “The biggest problem we get is that someone sent the blood analysis to the wrong place.”

Barry laughs. “Really, you get used to it. But you said in there you do forensic analysis and computers – how does that work?”

“We’re the people you hire to see if a hacker has left any traces of themselves in your system. People can be sloppy – and believe me, if that’s what we were talking about, I’d be in my element.”

“How are you finding it?” Barry asks, pouring coffee for all of them. Freddie adjusts his glasses.

“Well, like I said, I’ve never done this before – I only agreed because Iris is the one who sent me the samples.”

“Yeah, Iris is…well, she’s Iris.”

“Exactly. And most people don’t stay friends with their exes, but I think most people would find it incredibly difficult to not stay friends with Iris, you know?”

Barry blinks at him, suddenly feeling like the air’s been punched out of him. “I – Oh. How, uh, how long did you guys date for?”

Freddie shrugs, frowning. “Uh…Like, a year? Maybe more, maybe less. But it didn’t work out, I guess. We’re friends now, though. And now she’s back from England, so we get to hang out more.”

“Right. That’s…right. Anyway, I should get her coffee to her, so…”

“Dude, I get that. The amount of coffee the woman can consume is inhuman – I can’t count the emergency coffees I had to bring her during finals.”

Barry absolutely does not want to think about Freddie doing cute boyfriend things for Iris, so he makes some sort of noncommittal noise that he hopes sounds friendly and not like he wants to punch Freddie in the face. When they get back to the conference room, Eddie is explaining what’s going to happen at the trial. He gives Iris her coffee and then tries not to think about Iris and Freddie Smoak dating for a year. If he’s honest, he can see it – both of them are absurdly smart, like science, and they both have that adorable nerd thing going. They even both have glasses, for God’s sake. He can totally see them taking walks and holding hands while they talk about string theory, or-

“Allen!”

He blinks. “What?”

Lawton glares at him. “I just asked you how we found out about Hannah Bates, like, four times.”

“Oh, sorry. Ben told us she was one of the people on the scene.”

As they resume the conversation, Iris looks at him. “Barry, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Sorry. Just distracted.”

She turns back to the conversation and Barry tries to concentrate. Eventually, Iris takes her glasses off and looks around for her handbag to get the cloth to clean them. Barry, without even thinking about it, takes them from her gently and cleans them with the pocketsquare he keeps in his suit, before sliding them carefully back on her face. Iris smiles her thanks and goes back to the conversation.

But then Iris gets a call requesting her return to the precinct, and she apologises to Eddie as she gathers up her stuff. “Is there anything else I need to know?”

“I’ll get Barry or Flo to tell you,” he replies, shaking her hand. “It was nice to meet you, Iris.”

“You too, ASA.”

“I’ll go too,” Freddie says. “I’m pretty much done here, anyway. Let me know if I need to do anything else.”

“You’ve both been a big help,” Eddie tells them kindly.

When Eddie sees them off, Lawton gives Barry a look. “You petty asshole.”

“What? What did I do?”

“You know what you did.”

“Okay,” Eddie says, coming back in and sitting down, “why am I the last to know that Barry is dating the new CSI?”

“I – we’re not dating,” Barry splutters. “You’re not the last to know anything.”

“You think that was bad? You should see him at work.”

Eddie loosens his tie and grins. “They’re adorable, though.”

“Aren’t they? And Nora would love her. Much better than-”

“ _Becky Cooper_ ,” they say together, shuddering. Barry glares at them both.

“You’re both being ridiculous. We’re just friends.”

“Oh, right,” Lawton scoffs. “That explains the soup in the middle of the day when she was sick and all the heart-eyes – and the thing with the glasses just now.”

“What thing with the glasses?”

“God, that was hilarious,” Eddie laughs. “Barry, you might as well have kissed her right there in the middle of the room.”

“Freddie must have told him that they used to date,” Lawton says, pointing at him. “She told me that a few weeks ago. That explains the petty.”

“Her glasses were dirty!”

Both Lawton and Eddie give Barry identical ‘bullshit’ looks, and Barry glares at them both. “Oh, shut up.”

***

The day of the trial dawns bright and breezy, with a cold snap that means Iris orders and extra-large coffee on the way to the courthouse. Lawton meets her inside, smiling as she dusts pastry off her lips. “Hey, Dr. W. Ready?”

“I – I guess so,” she says, adjusting her glasses. She looks around at the high-vaulted ceilings and the lawyers and judges as they walk around. And then her heart does this weird flippy thing when she sees Barry walk out of the coat-check room and smile at her as he walks up to them. “Morning, you two. Has anyone seen Eddie yet?”

“He’s already in there, getting ready.”

“What about Santini – oh, heads up.”

All three of them see Bobby Santini being led out in an orange jumpsuit in handcuffs. He’s surrounded by guards, and when he looks around Iris feels like he’s looking right at her, his flat blue eyes boring straight through her. She holds her breath until he’s inside the courtroom. Barry’s the one who notices her frozen face, his brow furrowing. He glances at his partner. “Lawton, we’ll meet you inside, okay?”

Lawton nods and squeezes Iris’ shoulder before breezing into the courtroom behind everyone else. Then he turns back to Iris, who is taking several deep breaths. “Iris?”

“I saw him on the news,” she says, her eyes still on the door. “I know Eddie said not to look up anything he did, or anything that family did, but I saw it, and I couldn’t look away, and-”

“Iris-”

“What if I mess up, or-”

“Iris.” Barry takes her shoulders in his hands. “Come on, you are not going to mess up. It’s okay to be nervous, but you’ll be fine.”

Iris shakes her head. “I don’t know that I can remember everything – I keep thinking about cyanosis, which really has nothing to do with this case _at all_ -”

“Okay – Okay, look.” He looks around. “Don’t think that you’re talking to the defence lawyer, or even Eddie. Pretend you’re talking to someone you like. Like your mom, or Linda. Or me – I’ll be right there; I’ll be right in front of you. Just pretend that you’re telling me about the time Carl and Sergeant Silver rescued that alien race from the telepathic gorillas.”

“That wasn’t Sergeant Silver, that was a shapeshifter,” she says immediately. Then she realises. “Oh. Do you think that will work?”

He shrugs, smiling so wide his eyes crinkle. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

Iris looks up at him, at his green eyes so earnest and true, and nods. “I think it’ll work.”

“Well then I think we’ve got a world to save, Dr. West.”

Barry waits for her while she puts her coat away, and then they find Lawton sitting in the audience with the others as Eddie stands with the prosecution. They stand when the judge comes in and then they watch as the case gets started. Eventually Eddie calls up Lawton, who talks about how their witnesses slowly backed out, and then Barry, who explained that this happened in several different cases over several months. Finally, they call Iris up, and Eddie faces her with a friendly smile. “Dr. West.”

She nods at him, remembering at the last minute to say “Mr. Thawne” instead of “Eddie”.

“Your colleagues have told us there is a link between the Santini family and the Baldwin Tower complexes,” he says, “and you have evidence to prove that they used the endangerment of their residents as a way to facilitate witness tampering. Would you care to explain that to us?”

Iris looks at Barry, who gives her an encouraging smile, and nods. “Yes. I can.”

***

“I’m going to throw up.”

“You are not going to throw up.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because if you do,” Barry tells him, “you’re getting me a new suit.”

Eddie stops pacing for a minute, but then starts again, and Barry sighs. The prosecution rested their case about twenty minutes ago, after which the judge dismissed them all for the day. Having known Eddie for years, he recognised that his friend was indeed seconds from throwing up and took him outside for some air. He doesn’t know who designated him the person to talk people down from ledges, but he does know that he enjoyed Iris looking at him like that. Like he was the only thing keeping her afloat.

“You did great in there, Eddie,” he continues, glancing back towards the door. “Seriously, the jury looked convinced. And I know how tough Perez can be on things like this, but I think you even sold it to her.”

“I thought we lost it for a bit when Santini’s guy was cross-examining Lawton,” Eddie admits. “But I forgot how good she is at this and – why do you keep looking at the door?”

“No reason.”

“Oh, right,” Eddie realises. “She did pretty good too, actually.”

“Of course she did,” Barry says immediately, because he had no doubt in his mind. Eddie laughs.

“Man, you’ve got it _bad_. I have to go find my co-counsel, but I’ll see you for lunch tomorrow?”

“Can’t, I’m having lunch with my mom. We can get drinks on Friday.”

Eddie nods and holds him arms out for hug. “Thanks for everything, Barry. Really.”

“Don’t get sappy on me now, Pretty Boy.”

“Ass.”

Eddie walks off towards the chambers and Barry heads back to the atrium, intending to congratulate Iris on how well she did. And maybe he’ll give her a hug as well, just a quick one, one that won’t mean anything if she doesn’t want it to. But then he turns the corner and his blood starts roaring in his ears. Iris is standing by the coffee machine, talking to someone. It takes him a minute to realise that it’s Santini’s lawyers – and he doesn’t like the way they’re all standing around her like that. He’s in front of them before he even knows what he’s doing, his mouth set in a hard line. “Everything alright here, Iris?”

She gives them a measured look. “I think so, Barry. These men just had some questions for me.”

They look at him, and the lead lawyer, a tall man with slicked back hair, replies. “Yes, everything is fine, Barry.”

“Detective Allen.”

“Well, like Dr. West said, we just wanted to talk. Those were some interesting observations she made and we were curious about how she got to them.”

“Really?” Barry retorts tightly, his hands in his pockets. “Because it looked a hell of a lot like you were threatening my CSI.”

“I can assure you that isn’t what was happening. Is it, Dr. West?”

“I don’t think I have to talk to you if I don’t want to,” she replies calmly. “Do I?”

“No, you don’t,” Barry tells her, and the lawyer shrugs.

“Whatever makes you happiest. It was nice meeting you both.”

Barry watches as they both disappear down the same corridor that Eddie went, before turning back to her, his eyes searching her face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Iris looks so thoroughly unimpressed that Barry almost starts laughing. “I can’t believe I was intimated by people with the collective intelligence of a cashew nut.”

“As long as you’re sure. And you did great in there, by the way. I told you there was nothing to worry about. Where’s Lawton?”

“She had a meeting with the captain.”

“Right. Uh, are you okay getting home, or…”

“Linda’s outside, actually,” she tells him. “Something about how all the lawyers on _The Good Wife_ always got drunk after hard trials. Which means I’ll probably be hugely hungover tomorrow.”

He smiles. “I’d better let you go, then. Linda kind of scares me.”

“Join the club. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She turns, and then looks back at him. “Barry.”

“Yes?”

“When did I become _your_ CSI?”

He stares at her, his mouth suddenly dry, because yeah, he said that, and he hadn’t even noticed. Because the truth he is that somehow she became his _something_ , and he has no idea when. He clears his throat. “Sorry. Figure of speech.”

“I see. Goodnight, Barry.”

“Goodnight, Iris.”

***

“…or next time, your ass is grass!”

The next day, Iris is wincing as she comes to a stop outside the Captain’s office. Lawton shares a look with her. “Ouch. Who pissed off Nimbus??” Iris asks.

“From the sounds of it? The Captain over in Coast City. He’s always having his officers follow cases onto our territory.” She shrugs. “Anyway, whaddaya got for me, Dr. W?”

“A fresh forensics report on your gold store robbery, complete with a DNA match for people in the county jail.”

“You’re a doll, West.”

“I try,” she laughs. “Hey, do you know where Barry is? I haven’t seen him today.”

“He’s out doing a follow-up interview. Why?”

“No reason,” she says quickly. Just that she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Barry and how he’d comforted her the day before, and the look on his face when he’d said ‘my CSI’. Clearly her crush on him wasn’t going away, if her heart doing sprints at the mere mention of his name is any indication. “I’ll just find him later.”

“Uh-huh,” Lawton grins. “I bet you will. Later, West.”

Iris heads out into the atrium, intending to go out into her lab, but then she finds a tall, red-haired woman looking around. She strolls up to her. “Um, can I help you in any way, ma’am?”

“Oh no, dear,” she says. Iris studies her. She’s gorgeous, with all that red hair piled elegantly on her head and bright green eyes. She also looks innately familiar. “I’m just waiting for my son; we’re supposed to be getting lunch. Although evidently, he’s late.”

“Your son?”

“He’s a detective here – Detective Allen?”

“Oh!” Iris says in surprise. “You’re Barry’s mom?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, I thought I met most of his colleagues…”

“I’m Dr. West,” she replies, shaking her hand. “I’m pretty new around here.”

Nora’s eyes widen. “You’re Iris? The one who’s helping with the Santini case?”

“That’s me.”

“Well, you certainly are just as beautiful as my son is always saying you are.” Then she puts a hand over her mouth, smiling. “Gosh, he’s going to be so mad at me for saying that.”

Iris blushes furiously, adjusting her glasses, smiling at the fact that Barry thinks she’s beautiful. And that he tells his mother about her. “Well, that’s…nice. Thank you.”

“And now I’ve embarrassed you,” she sighs. “Okay, how about I embarrass him for a little bit? I have some stories I’m sure you’d love to hear.”

“I’m not sure Barry would like that, Mrs Allen.”

“Nora, honey. And if he didn’t want to be embarrassed, he should have been on time.”

***

“Do you want to get dinner with me?” He pauses, clears his throat. ”Do you want to go to dinner with me?”

It’s absurd that he has to practice asking Iris out to his empty front seat, but the thing with Freddie and then the courthouse made him realise that clearly it isn’t just a crush, and that the thought of her with anyone but him made him feel sick. What kind of person wants to punch friendly, sweet Freddie Smoak in the face? And seeing her surrounded by those lawyers made equal parts nervous and angry. So, he is here, practicing to nobody, because he could take one look at her face and forget how to _talk_. Like he had at the courthouse yesterday when she asked him that question, and all he wanted to do was grab her and kiss her.

“Would you have dinner with me? Would you have dinner with me _sometime_?”

But she must like him at least a little, right? That explained the mac and cheese, and being so helpful, and letting him clean her glasses like that. But Iris is nice to everyone. And she’s very touchy with everyone – she hugs Lawton all the time, and she and Linda are always arm in arm when her best friend comes to get her for lunch. He straightens his tie as he walks into the precinct. Okay, maybe don’t think about that. One step at a time. Get her alone, start a conversation, and then-

“Would you want…Would you like…Oh, shit.”

His mother is standing in the lobby, making Iris laugh, no doubt with a story about him because she’s having far too much fun. She’s early for their lunch. Barry’s heart sinks, because he has definitely gushed to his mother about Iris, a _lot_ , and he has no filter with her. “M-Mom?”

Her mother turns to face him. “Barry, there you are!”

“Here I am,” he laughs nervously. “Just, uh, what are you doing here?”

“We’re supposed to be getting lunch.”

He frowns. “We said one thirty.”

“We said _one_.” She shakes her head, turning to Iris. “Honestly. I told you he’s always late, didn’t I?”

“You did say that,” Iris agrees, smiling.

“Mom, come on, don’t bother Dr. West – I’m sure she has a lot to do…”

“I didn’t mind,” she says easily, and his mother gives him a look.

“ _Iris_ ,” she corrects him, “was kind enough to keep me company while I was waiting for you. We were just talking about you, actually.”

“Well I’m here now,” he says quickly, making to herd her towards the door. “So why don’t you wait for me by the elevator?”

“Late, and now he’s rushing me.”

“I’ll see you in a minute, Mom!”

When she’s walked off, Barry looks down at Iris. “I am so sorry about that…”

“It was fine, Barry,” she laughs. “Your mom is very sweet. She said some…interesting things about you.”

“Of course she did. She looks far too happy.” He pauses, steeling himself. “Since she’s probably told the story about how I wore Superwoman socks on the first day of work, I figure I don’t have much to lose. Would you like to go to dinner with me?”

Iris smiles her sunshine smile at him. “I would love to go to dinner with you, Barry. How about tomorrow at eight?”

“That – That’s perfect,” he replies, grinning. “Okay, yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Iris frowns slightly at him, still smiling, when he doesn’t move. “Barry?”

“Yeah?”

She points. “Your…um, your mom…”

“Oh! Oh, right,” he says, looking around at his mother, who looks incredibly amused. “I guess I should get lunch with her.”

“Maybe,” she laughs. Then she bites her lip. “I’m really looking forward to dinner. And,” she adds, “there’s nothing wrong with Superwoman socks. I happen to think they’re very cute. But she actually told me about the Superwoman bedsheets.”

“Great!”

***

“This was a terrible idea.”

“It was not a terrible idea – Iris, quit pacing-”

“What if I run out of things to say?”

“In _what universe_ ,” Linda says patiently, “have you ever run out of things to say?”

“What if he thinks I’m an idiot?”

Linda snorts. “If Bartholomew Allen thinks you’re an idiot, then I weep for the safety of Central City. Now would you come back and sit down? I wasn’t finished pinning your hair.”

Iris sits down in front of the mirror, trying not to panic. She has no idea why she agreed to this, not when she’s this nervous. She’s wearing a dark red dress and heels, and Linda is very helpfully putting her hair in curls pinned to the side of her head – she’s even wearing her mother’s pearls. But none of that with matter if she makes a complete fool of herself on this date

“Iris, quit worrying,” Linda tells her. “That man spent a whole day with you while you were sick and tired and talking about space shows. Clearly, he has enough sense to see how special you are.” She pauses, smiling when she hears the doorbell. “And that’s your guy now.”

After Linda finishes her hair, Iris straightens her dress and goes to open the door. The breath gets knocked out of her when she sees Barry standing there, all fresh and clean and holding a bunch of flowers. He’s wearing a charcoal grey suit and his hair is in the neatest side parting she’s ever seen, on him or anyone else for that matter. He’s so handsome that her chest aches looking at him. “Hi,” she says quietly, unable to stop the smile stealing across her face.

“H-Hi,” he says hoarsely. He looks her up and down, his expression filled with an awe that warms her right down to her toes. He clears his throat and hands her the flowers. “I got you these. They’re camellias – I was going to get irises, but that’s really corny, so…here.”

“Thank you, Barry. Wow, these are gorgeous.”

“So are you,” he says immediately. “You look great, Iris.”

She blushes and then looks him over. “I mean, so do you, Barry. That’s a great suit.”

He grins shyly. “Yeah, I kind of got new suspenders.”

A squeal from behind them interrupts them. “I’m sorry,” Linda says coming from her room. “The two of you are just too adorable. Hi, Barry.”

“Good evening, Linda.”

“I’m just gonna take _these_ ,” she continues, taking the flowers, “and put them in water. Iris, have fun. Barry?”

“Yes?”

“Be good to this one.”

“Don’t worry,” he says, looking at Iris, “I will.”

He offers her his arm when they get outside and she revels in the steadiness of him as they walk down the street. Her shoulders are bare, but she feels strangely warm with him next to her. He steals glances at her as they talk, like he’s making sure she’s still there, which makes her blush. “I’m sorry it’s so chilly,” he says, after a lull in the conversation. “I know it makes your glasses foggy.”

“Yeah, I almost didn’t wear them today,” she admits. “I usually wear contacts on dates. And I was thinking of getting laser eye surgery, just get rid of them altogether.”

“Why?”

“Well, they’re kind of annoying, they make me look dorky, and they put this little dent on my nose-”

“Yeah, but you look great in them. Not that you don’t look good all the time, I just meant with the glasses, or without them you just – you’re beautiful, Iris. And you might be dorky, but I-I think you’re swell.”

Barry is blushing so hard that each of his freckles are standing out. “Thank you, Barry. You’re not so bad yourself.” He smiles wondrously at her and then looks ahead, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, but she keeps looking at him and then realises something that surprises her.

She makes him nervous.

Iris can’t believe it, but it’s true. He stammered when she answered the door, and he keeps looking at her like she might disappear on him, and she has never seen him blush like he did just now. He’s Detective Allen – he doesn’t get nervous, but here he is. The thought is making her heart speed up. “So,” she says, nudging him, “do I get to know where we’re going?”

“I have a confession to make about that, actually,” he admits. “You know how I got you that soup from Jitterbugs?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, they don’t actually open that early. The only reason I could is because my mother owns it.”

Iris’ eyes widen. “She does?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “I just knew how much you liked it, and I – sort of – wanted you to like me because of me, not-”

“Your soup?”

“Right,” he laughs. “But they’re basically the best place in town, and tonight’s the night we do the live show with the band, so I was thinking we could go there.”

Iris pauses. “Will there be soup?”

Barry grins at her and she grins back, and soon they’re in Jitterbugs being greeted by everyone who knows Barry as they’re led to a table on the upper level, where they can see the band performing with people dancing below them. Barry, for his part, can’t quite believe that he’s lasted this long on this date without Iris figuring out that his palms are sweating and he keeps running out of things to say. Because that’s the only way to explain why he started babbling about his new suspenders and her glasses and called her ‘swell’. _Swell_. Jesus, Allen.

But it’s impossible not to act like that when she thinks his jokes are funny and Lawton says he doesn’t even have a sense of humour, and she let him guide her as they walked and into the building, and now she’s smiling across from him at the table. They have dinner and talk some more, and he makes her laugh so hard that she snorts and has to stop eating. But is favourite part is when she sees the surprise he ordered them for dessert.

“Barry!” she laughs when she opens up the lid. “These brownies are yours?”

“Yeah,” he admits. “My sister and I came up with them.”

“I didn’t know you had a sister.”

He gives her a lopsided smile. “Guess you still have some more to find out about me.”

“I can’t wait.”

They finish the brownies just as the band starts a new song – _Dream a Little Dream of Me_ – and Iris gasps. “I love this song! Dance with me?”

“Iris, I can’t dance.”

“But I can.”

“Yeah, and you’ll look perfect until I squish you with my two left feet.”

Iris’ eyes get all big behind her glasses and she pouts, and Barry decides that she must at least know that it always works on him. “Fine,” he says. “But I warned you.”

She leads him down to the floor and lots of people smile at them as Iris shows Barry where on her waist to put his hand, then she takes the other. “See?” she says as they dance. “It’s not that hard.”

“Wait for it. I’m telling you, I’m going to trip on air any second now.”

Iris laughs again and looks at him like she could never want to be anywhere else, and the only reason he notices the song is changing is because Iris glances away to the stage. “Barry, is that your mom?”

“Yeah,” he says. It’s the first time she’s sung in years. She smiles at him and continues with the first few bars of _My Funny Valentine_. “I guess it is.”

“Does she sing often?”

“Not in a while, actually.”

“She’s amazing.” Barry almost says something, but Iris rests her head on his chest and her eyes flutter shut, and he’s almost afraid to breathe. “Y-Yeah,” he says, looking down at her in his arms. “Amazing.”

There is something alive in Iris, the same thing that made her pull him down here, the same thing that is making her rest her head on his chest to feel his heart beat underneath his cotton shirt, and it’s igniting a kind of tug of war inside her. Part of her wants to grab him by the collar and kiss him, wants to feel the heat of his mouth on hers and his hair between her fingers, but the other half is saying _not yet_. That the music is too loud, that there are too many eyes, that this moment does not belong to them. So she stays where she is, all through Nora singing _Unforgettable_ and _At Last_ , keeping Barry’s arms around her and hers around him, because that fight is still in her, a question and answer of _now?_ and _not yet_.

Iris doesn’t know if he’s feeling it as well or it’s just obvious on her face, but when one of the songs finishes, he looks down at her. “You want to get out of here?”

She nods, and they wave goodbye to his mother as they step out, Barry twining her fingers with his. They don’t talk a whole lot but that seems okay – all the night-time sounds seem enough for them. That tiny little war is still waging in her as they come to a stop outside Iris and Linda’s apartment block. “I had a wonderful time tonight, Barry.”

“Me too. I actually danced without falling over, so you’re just going to have to go ahead and make sure you’re always there when I’m dancing.”

“Is that your way of asking me out again?”

“Maybe.”

Iris giggles and Barry sort of stares at her for a moment, enthralled, before tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. His hand stills and the other comes up to join it, gently cupping her face in his hands. She steps a little closer to him, her breath coming in uneven gasps, as he explores her face with a delicate finger. He does it carefully, like she might break, stroking his fingers over her eyes and nose and cheeks. He gets to her mouth and uses his thumb to trace the outline of it, before gently pulling her bottom lip out from where it’s trapped between her teeth due to nerves. His thumb on her mouth, soft and feather-light, makes her shiver despite the warmth radiating off him. Then he cups her face again and leans in to kiss her, but that thing inside Iris is still saying _not yet_.

Barry frowns when she stops him, but doesn’t protest as she takes his wrists and gently places his hands on her waist. She pauses with her hands up near his shoulders, so he knows that she gets to do it too, and lets her starts with his eyebrows, obediently bending his head so she gets better access. His stupidly long lashes have always kind of fascinated her, and he closes his eyes as she runs her fingers over his eyelids. Then she moves up to his hair, threading her fingers through it like she’s always wanted to. She can feel his breath, soft and uneven, ghosting over her fingers as she traces his lips with them. He makes a tiny, choked noise in the back of his throat when she gets to his neck, fingers lightly smoothing over his Adam’s apple; she can even feel his pulse as his heart beats. Then that thing in her says _now_? and the other part answers, _yes, now_.

So Iris cradles his face in his hands and reaches up to kiss him, feeling him sigh with relief into her mouth and pulling her against him, his hands squeezing her hips. He twists his head to the side and coaxes her mouth open to deepen the kiss, which pulls a muffled noise out of her that he swallows up. One hand comes up to cup the back of her skull as he fastens the other around her waist, leaving her free to loop her arms around his neck and kiss him harder as she arches into him. They stay like that for a while, kissing and kissing and Iris could honestly drown in it, before Barry breaks away from her but keeps his forehead pressed to hers. His chest is heaving, breath coming in short gasps, and even in the low light she can see his pupils are dilated.

“So,” he murmurs in a strangled voice, “I, uh, didn’t actually get an answer, and if we keep doing this I’m going to get carried away and forget. Can we do this again some time?”

Iris gives him a small smile, stroking his lips with a finger. “Anything for you, Detective.”

Barry grins at her before surging forward and kissing her again, tangling his hands in her hair. Iris grips his shirt and is only vaguely aware of how mad Linda is going to be when she gets in and all the pins have fallen out of her hair, but there’s electricity dancing along her skin and she can still feel the music from the club beating a steady rhythm within her, so she lets Barry hold her and kiss her until the world melts away.

***

Captain Nimbus notices immediately.

Actually, most people do. According to Lawton, ‘You actually smile when you walk in the building’. But he can’t help it. When he woke up that morning after their first date, he had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. But he still has the receipt from the flowers he got her, and he remembers how she’d danced with him and kissed him, so it has to be real, right?

They’re really busy for the next few days but they have a date on Saturday, and he’s so focused on that he doesn’t think anything of it when the Captain calls him into her office. Iris is already there, looking quietly curious, but her face clears in realisation when she sees Barry walk in. She gets them to sit down and explains that it is obvious that they’re dating, and while it’s not expressly forbidden, it would be best if they not let anything interfere with their work. She lets them leave, and they stand outside her office. “I kind of feel like when my dad said if he saw me making out with my boyfriend in his house he’d get out his shotgun.”

Barry blinks at her. “He wasn’t serious about that, was he?”

“Well, he said it in high school, I’m sure he’s not thinking that now.” She pauses. “Probably. What do we do? I didn’t think we were too obvious, but…”

“Well, I don’t want to stop dating you,” he tells her, taking her hands. “I like…this, between us.”

“Me too. But we do work together, and we should be professional about things. So I’ll probably have to start calling you ‘Detective Allen’ again.”

“And I should call you ‘Dr. West’.”

“And we should only have coffee together in the break room or when we’re working.”

He frowns. “I never even thought of that.”

She bites her lip. “Unless – if it’s too hard, and you don’t want to-”

“No! Ahem, no, I want to. It’s just like you said, right? Professional.”

She smiles. “Then we probably shouldn’t be holding hands in the corridor. Detective.”

“Ah. Good point.” He lets go. “So, Saturday?”

“Saturday.”

It’s harder than they thought, highlighting just how obvious they had been with their feelings before they went to dinner, but the teasing looks subside as the week wears by, and most people seem happy for them. They do sneak lunches together, occasionally, and he walks her home after work sometimes, and she wryly comments that this is much better than two months ago when they couldn’t stand each other.

Their next date is a Saturday afternoon, and Barry walks to her apartment with a picnic basket to get her so they can have lunch in the park. She’s taking the mac and cheese out of the oven when he arrives, and there’s someone else at the table with her eating all the grapes. “Wally! Stop it, those are for me!”

“I’m hungry,” he complained. “I was just in a twelve-hour tumour removal surgery and Linda promised I could eat whatever was in the refrigerator.”

“Did she say you could eat _my_ food?”

“Hey, if it was in the refrigerator, it’s fair game.”

Iris makes a frustrated noise at him. “Barry, this food disposal machine you see before you is my cousin, Wally. Wally, this is Barry from work.”

Wally’s face clears in recognition as he shakes his hand. “Oh! You’re Iris’ tall detective.”

“That’s me,” he laughs as Iris groans again. “And you’re called Dr. West too?”

He throws another grape in his mouth. “Yeah. Her dad is also called ‘Dr. West’. It’s a lot of fun at parties.”

“He’s also Lin’s boyfriend,” Iris adds.

“Oh, right! So, have you…” he trails off, pointing to his ring finger, and Wally rounds on his cousin. “Iris! I can’t believe you told him!”

“Wally, there are people in _Gotham_ who know! Why haven’t you done it yet?”

“I told you, I’m waiting. The last two times I think she almost figured it out; I need it not to be obvious.”

“Well, hurry it up. Someone taught Mama Ida how to use Facebook and I swear, she’s going to end up telling Linda about her proposal before you do.”

It might seem like an odd time of year for a picnic, given that everything is getting colder, but it’s a strangely clear day with only a light breeze, and Iris brought all the hot food and drinks. “Wally’s pretty cool,” he says, once they’ve sat down on the blanket.

“Yeah, he’s the best,” she agrees. “You have a sister, right?”

“Malina,” he says. He shows her a picture on his phone, of them right before she went to college. “She’s at Metropolis U right now, she wants to be a lawyer.”

“She looks like you.”

“When you meet her, don’t tell her that.”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment, and he looks up from spooning food onto a plate. “What?”

“Nothing, I just…” she adjusts her glasses. “You want me to meet your sister.”

“Well, yeah,” he smiles. “Someday. Is that okay?”

“It’s okay. So, Malina is an interesting name.”

“Yeah, we thought she was going to be a boy, and it was going to be ‘Malcolm’, so we just found the feminine version.”

“Bartholomew and Malina,” she muses. “Got any middle names?”

“Well, Malina’s Belle and I’m Henry, after my dad.”

Iris doesn’t say anything for a while. “How are you doing with that?”

“Okay,” he shrugs. He folds his arms (Iris has noticed that he does that and hunches his shoulders up when something is hard or painful for him). “The holidays are the hardest, but at least I have my mom and my sister, you know? And some of his friends from the agency still call and stuff.” He unfolds his arms and rests his palms on the blanket, picking at the cotton. “It’s not even that hard anymore, really. But sometimes when we’re out on patrol or we figure something out or even Eddie’s case – I still kind of want to tell him, you know? Like, I’d want to know if he’d be proud.”

“He’d be proud, Barry,” she tells him.

“You never met him,” he points out softly. She grins at him.

“Well, Barry, I happen to be very smart. I have a PhD and everything.”

Barry gives her that wondrous smile again, the one that gives his dimples and makes his eyes crinkle, and then they start eating, and they spend their afternoon making fun of each other for their taste. Barry loves jalapenos even though they always burn his mouth, and Iris puts cheese on everything. When they’ve moved onto dessert and Barry is eating one of the cupcakes he brought for himself (‘Iris, you know you’re going to eat all those brownies yourself’), Iris notices that he has icing over his top lip. “Barry, you have icing on your face.”

“Oh.” He wipes the left side of his face. “Is it gone?”

“No,” she giggles, “try again.”

The right side, this time. “It’s gone now, right?”

Iris collapses in giggles again, and he alternates between looking exasperated and laughing along with her, still trying to get the icing off, which makes her laugh harder – and Iris decides right at that moment that she loves him. It’s kind of like a light switch: in that moment, looking at Detective Allen fight a cupcake, she knows she’s in love with him, though she wants to keep it to herself for now. She does put him out of his misery though, leaning over to kiss he icing off his mouth and licking it off his lips in a way that makes him moan. He just drops the cupcake entirely and pulls her against him into his lap, stroking her cheek with a finger. This kiss is slower and steadier than the last one, and Barry is more methodical in his approach, like he’s learning exactly how to kiss her. The thought makes her toes curl. And the expression on his face when they stop is doing wonders for her, too.

“I don’t know if I told you this already,” she says, her arms looped around his neck, “but I think you’re pretty swell, too.”

“Gotta be honest, I was still kind of paranoid you only liked me for my soup.”

On their walk back they run into Eddie by the market, who looks completely unsurprised at seeing them together. The first thing he says is, “Lawton owes me twenty.”

“Why?” Barry asks.

“Well, she thought it’d take you longer to get to the hand-holding stage,” he replies, and Barry looks down to see that they are, in fact, holding hands. He hadn’t even noticed. “Well, I’m glad I’m paying for your drinks with you law friends this week.”

“I was going to call you guys, actually, we just found out about the case,” he grins.

“And?” Iris asks.

“We lost.”

Barry stares at him. “You wanna tell your face that?”

“No, Barry, we lost – and then the feds opened up an investigation into Baldwin Towers. Took them less than two hours to confess to everything to avoid the worst charges.”

“Eddie!” Barry high-fives him. “That’s amazing!”

“Well done, Eddie,” Iris tells him.

“Thanks. I have to go – press conference – but I’ll see you this week, alright?”

They wish Eddie goodbye and continue on their way, the picnic basket swinging from Iris’ arm. “Do you think they’ll need us?” Iris asks. “The feds? You guys did start the whole investigation.”

“Maybe,” Barry admits. “It’ll be more formal, though, and more departments involved. You’re not worried, are you?”

“Maybe a little. But,” she adds, “I think I’m just going to try that trick you gave me.”

“Which one was that?”

“As long as I think about you, I’ll be fine.”

“I do have the best ideas, don’t I?”

***

Barry likes the way Iris says his name.

It snuck up on him, that realisation, during their third date, though Barry doesn’t realise it until right at the end. He shows up to her apartment so they can go dancing, and the first thing she does it remove his tie. “I have been wanting to do this since I met you – these ties are _boring_ , Barry,” she tells him.

“They are not,” he frowns as she pulls something out of a small brown bag. “What’s wrong with them?”

“Bowties are cuter.” She tilts his chin up and ties the bowtie around his neck, smiling in satisfaction when she’s done. “There, now you’re perfect.”

“I look stupid.”

“No, you don’t. You look cute. Whimsical.”

“I don’t want to be whimsical,” he says grumpily.

“Everyone needs a little whimsy, Barry,” she says, and he notices is then. This time it’s that she’s used to him, used to his personality and how impatient he can be, and it hasn’t scared her off yet. That maybe it could be real, this thing between them. They’ve been dating for three weeks now, and that isn’t a lot, but for him it’s the best thing that ever happened to him. Iris is wearing this burgundy dress with a thin ribbon choker, her hair in soft waves, and it’s taking everything in Barry to keep from staring.

The next time he notices is when they’re out – Iris has roped him into a jazz club uptown – and they’re dancing, and he spins her and then pulls her back to him. “Where did you learn to do that?” she laughs breathlessly. He shrugs.

“Internet.”

“You are full of surprises, Barry Allen.”

He notices it again right then, with the twinkle in her eyes and her sunshine smile, and the way she says it this time tells him that she wants him in her life as much as he wants her in his. He can feel her body pressed up against his, her warmth radiating through that goddamn dress, and he wishes it were just them in this club.

But the final time he notices it is when they’re on their way home. They’re outside his apartment this time, and he’s walking her home before circling back to his, but Barry literally cannot take it any longer. He pins her up against a wall and kisses her, not having the patience for when they’re kissing goodbye outside of _her_ apartment. He notices something different about this kiss almost immediately – it’s heavier and sloppier and more desperate, even though they each know the other one isn’t going anywhere. She sucks on his bottom lip, swallowing the needy sounds they elicit from him and gasping when he pushes into her even more.

“ _Barry_ ,” she breathes, when he finally lets her come up for air. And the way she says his name, and the way she’s looking at him, with her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed and her breath fanning his face, convinces him he’s going to spend the rest of the night making sure she keeps saying it.

They make it up to his apartment – eventually – and Iris murmurs his name again against his neck as he tries to get the door open. Then once they’re inside she shoves him up against it, holding his jaw in place with one hand and grabbing his lapel with the other as she kisses him. Then her hands move down, unbuttoning his shirt as she goes. Barry shudders and twitches at the feel of her fingers on his skin, and he lets out an involuntary, guttural noise. When she’s done, he shrugs his shirt and blazer off in one movement, while she steps and pulls her dress over her head.

Barry licks his lips when he sees her. “Jesus,” he mutters, and then he pulls her against him and kisses her again, and she groans his name as kisses and bites and sucks an infrequent pattern down her neck, his hands splayed on her back. Then he bends and lifts her around the waist, making her wrap her legs around his hips and let out a delighted squeal, and carries her to his bedroom. His steps falter a little when he feels Iris trace the outline of his ear with her tongue and then nibble on his earlobe, but then he’s laid her on his bed and she’s kissing him again, her hands snaking into his hair. She’s saying his name in between kisses too, and then he moves down to her neck and chest and torso, and then lower. Her legs tremble around him, her breath coming in uneven gasp as he pushes her further and further over the edge.

“Fu- _Fuck_ , _Barry_ ,” she whimpers.

That’s his second favourite, he thinks, when he’s between her legs and she’s shaking around him, her hands fisted in his hair, but his absolute favourite must be later, when they’re moving together, his arms on either side of her head as chants his name and her heels digging into his back, and then she shakes apart, arching back into the pillow, screaming his name into his mouth.

Yeah, that’s definitely his favourite.

***

Iris wakes up the next morning with Barry’s arms curled around her, his breath fluttering her hair as he sleeps. She blinks against the morning sun that is coming through the windows and shifts, trying not to wake him. She smiles down at him as she sits up. He looks so different when he’s sleeping, but still like _her_ Barry. She still hasn’t told him that she loves him, because she likes that it’s a little secret for herself, and sometimes she looks at him, a lot like she’s looking at him right now, and thinks _I love you, I love you, don’t you know?_ and he asks what she looking at, and she shrugs and just says she’s distracted.

She looks around and stretches – sometime between her dress coming off and the second (or maybe it was the third?) orgasm, Barry very gently removed her glasses, folded them up, and put them on the side (which made her pin him to his bed and kiss him until he was desperate for air). She puts them on and the world is a little clearer, so she puts on one of Barry’s shirt, slips on the spare underwear she keeps in her purse (another piece of sound advice from Hailey Rathaway, her dorm advisor in college), and heads out in search of some water.

After almost tripping on her dress, lying in a burgundy heap on the floor, she makes her way into the kitchen. It occurs to her that she hasn’t actually seen Barry’s apartment – though she supposes with the way they were clawing at each other the night before, it’s not like he had the chance to show her his china patterns. It’s a lot like him, neat and organised, with some pictures of his family, Lawton and Eddie, some people from college, and a picture of him from the police academy. She also catches the reflection of herself in the mirror, and concludes that when she has dinner with her mother tomorrow, she is definitely going to have to wear a turtleneck.

When she wanders back into his room sipping her water, Barry is giving her a sleepy smile as he runs a hand through his hair. “Morning.”

“Morning,” she replies. “How are you?”

“Awesome,” he grins, and Iris gets a little thrill, because he’d gotten that look last night and that’s why she has a lovely pattern of hickeys on her neck. “You?”

“Good. A little hungry.”

“Do you want breakfast? I can make eggs.”

“Hm. Hold on.” She puts the water down, climbs back into bed with him, and kisses him, long and lingering. “Yeah, eggs sound great.”

“Hell, I’ll make whatever you want,” he stutters, making her giggle. So they eat scrambled eggs and toast, and then Barry lends her his college sweats, so they spend that morning and some of the afternoon watching TV in his bed with his arms wrapped around her. He pouts adorably when she has to leave, but insists on walking her back to her apartment.

Barry frowns down at her when she gives him that look again as they stand outside the entrance of her apartment. “What? Iris, did you let me go through this whole morning with food on my face again?”

“No,” she laughs. She leans up to kiss him. “Just distracted. I’ll see you on Monday.”

After working at CCPD for this long, Iris has accrued quite a bit of respect around the place, not to mention a reputation for stellar work, even though she often forgets who it belongs to. So, when news spreads around that she has to speak at a forensics conference in Star City this week, the precinct is more than a little disappointed. “I’ll only be gone for three days,” she says over everyone’s groaning. “The external lab I set up is great for dealing with bulk requests, and they love me, so…” She pauses. “How about I bring you all presents?” Everyone laughs. “See? Positivity, people. Any questions?”

“Are you going to have the report for the Central City Bridge crash done in time, Dr. West?” someone asks. She nods.

“I’m almost done with that – there’ll be an email sent around to all the servers before the end of next week.”

Some other people ask stuff, but half of them are demanding whether she really has to go. When they all disperse, Lawton and the Captain walk up to her as she’s clearing up her papers, Barry behind them. She’s not hurt at all when he just gives her a curt nod by way of greeting – they decided weeks ago that they’d keep things professional. “Dr. West, I just wanted to congratulate all of you on that case with ASA Thawne,” the Captain says. “I heard that the DOJ are taking it over?”

“Yes, Eddie said they might want us to testify again,” Lawton replies. “Or they’d take our video testimony, I don’t know. Sounds like fun.”

“Your definition of ‘fun’ leaves a lot to be desired, Lawton,” Barry mutters.

“In any case,” she continues, “I want to check with you that you were alright with this, Iris. I know you haven’t done a lot of this before.”

“I’m alright with it,” she assures her. “Detective Lawton and Detective Allen have been very helpful.”

“But I was more helpful, right?” Lawton grins. “I’m nicer than he is.”

“Congratulations, Deadshot.”

“Like I said, I’m fine,” Iris laughs. “I had fun working with them.”

“Good to know. Lawton, I wanted to ask you something. I’ll let you get back to your work.”

“Actually,” Barry pipes up, “could I see you for a moment, Dr. West? I think there may be a discrepancy in the Turner report.”

Iris frowns at the severe expression his face but nods, because she’s sure she hasn’t finished that yet. “Of course, detective.” Barry leads her to one of the quieter corridors, opening the door and letting her walk through first. “Detective, I’m really not sure that I – Oh!”

Barry crowds her up against the wall and kisses her, his hands cupping her face to tilt it up to him. “Barry – _Barry_!” she says between kisses. “You – Barry, we’re at work!”

“So?” he grins, still kissing her. He snakes an arm around her waist.

“So it’s been a month and we’ve been good – do you want to get us in trouble?”

“We’re not going to get in trouble.”

“Well, I might – you had me worried about the Turner report!”

“You should be, it’s on my bedside table at home.”

“Oh, right,” she scoffs, grabbing his shirt lapels to make him stop. “And whose fault is that, Mr Goodfellas-isn’t-really-that-long?”

He grins sheepishly at her. “You’re the worst,” she mutters. “Also, you really are going to get us in trouble.”

“But you’re going away for three whole days,” he murmurs, rubbing her arms.

“And I’m coming over tonight,” she points out. He pouts.

“Not enough.”

“You’re such a baby – Barry Allen!” she laughs as he peppers her face with kisses. He makes a face at her and lets go.

“Sorry, I’ll stop. I have to go anyway, but I’ll see you tonight.”

“Wait.” She pulls him back and wipes his face. “I think I look a little better in my lipstick than you do, Detective.”

***

“I love you, Barry.”

He thinks he’s imagining it at first. Iris is curled on his lap on his sofa while they watch something on Netflix, her head on his chest, mostly because the two of them are too exhausted to do anything else after such a long day. The hand that’s stroking up and down her arm stills. That – She said – “Barry?”

“Y-Yeah?”

She lifts her head to look at him. “Are you alright?”

“You said…”

“I did say.”

“Is it… true?”

“It is.”

Barry swallows. That’s a lot, what she just said to him. It’s bigger than a few dates and walks on the weekend and holding her hand. That kind of thing leads to moving in together and shared possessions and other things he might not be ready for yet. “Barry,” she says again. “You – I wasn’t saying that to get you to say it back. I’m saying it because I feel it and it’s true.”

“But-”

“Okay. Barry, look at me.” She cradles his face in her hands. “Would you be telling the absolute truth if you said it back? And would you be ready to say so if it is?”

He shakes his head. “Alright. Do you think you could, eventually?”

“Yes,” he replies. She smiles.

“Well, then I’m good right where I am, Barry.”

He swallows, hating himself. “I’m sorry, Iris, I-”

“I’m not going to be mad at you for telling me the truth. Like I said, I wanted to tell you. I’ve been…keeping it in for a while, and I felt ready to say it.” She peers at him. “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you?”

“No, it’s okay.” He manages a smile at her. “It’s… good to know.”

“I’m glad.” She stands up, looking around for her stuff. “Anyway, I have to go – I have an early train tomorrow.”

He sits up. “Wait, are you mad? You’re mad.”

“I’m not mad, Barry. I’ll call you when I get there, okay?” She kisses him on the cheek and leaves. He’s still thinking about it the next day. Iris said it like it was natural, easier than breathing, as if a whole world isn’t in those three little words. She’s been better at this than him the entire time, her feelings are always out and open where his are closer to his chest. How can she say that so quickly? And how is she not terrified?

It hits him, though, when she’s gone. Not seeing her every day, walk down the stairs or hold a meeting or even get excited about her equipment deliveries, is like a physical hole in him. She’s busy for eighteen hours of the day and the signal is horrible, so he barely even gets to talk to her. Barry _aches_ , which is unexpected and unpleasant and makes him even grumpier than usual. His mother finally notices when, as he’s visiting her for their weekly lunch, he keeps getting distracted. “Alright,” she says, putting her fork down. “I’m not talking to myself anymore. What’s the matter with you?”

“Me? Nothing.”

“Mm. And the truth?”

He rubs his face. “Iris is away,” he admits. “I just miss her, I guess.”

Her face clears. “I should have known. It’s always like that when you’re in love with someone – it’s like a physical absence.”

“I never said I loved her,” he says in surprise. She laughs.

“Barry, you didn’t have to! It’s written all over your face.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “B-But we’ve only been dating for a month…”

“Barry, love doesn’t work on a clock. When you know…” she shrugs. “You know.”

“But it’s…a lot. And she said it to me like it was easy.”

“Barry, if you knew yourself like everyone else does, you’d know how easy it is to love you. And I have met Iris; she wouldn’t be saying it if it weren’t true.” She pauses. “You just have to figure out whether you feel that to.”

 _When you know, you know_. When he said it before, to other girls, it was never this big, or scary, or precious. He’s never been more terrified of anything in his life. But then, he thinks, who’s to say Iris _isn’t_ terrified? Maybe she…maybe she just loves him enough that it’s worth it to tell him. And he can’t leave her by herself, she can’t be the only one in this to be brave about it.

Iris, for her part, isn’t thinking about that all when she gets back from the conference to find that they really don’t trust anyone other than her with the reports. There are half a dozen on her desk, along with little gifts bribing her because everyone _knew_ that they were supposed to send them out to the external lab. She supposes that she should be flattered, but honestly, she has enough work to do. “Come in!” she calls when someone knocks on her door.

“D-Dr. West?”

“Detective Allen,” Iris replies evenly. She peers at him, wondering why he looks so nervous. She hopes he doesn’t think she’s mad about the whole ‘I love you’ thing. She admits that it’s never nice to _not_ hear it back, but she honestly wasn’t expecting him to say it back. Barry never lets his feelings out as easily as she does; it’s just not in his nature. A part of her is just glad that she didn’t scare him away, because if she’s honest, that would have been what she expected. He clears his throat. “I just wanted to know whether the report for the Central City Bridge crash was finished?”

“It is,” she replies easily, smiling. “I’m sending it out after lunch.”

“Great.”

She turns back to her desk. “Anything else I can help you with?”

Barry’ takes a deep breath. “It – uh, Lawton and I wanted to look over the Turner report again, Eddie had some legal stuff for you to sign, and… I love you too.”

Iris turns to him, blinking in surprise. Barry’s green eyes are nervously searching her face, and she realises that he wants to know whether it’s still true, whether he’s blown his chance. She gives him a radiant smile. “Good to know, detective. I will have that report to you as soon as possible, and I’ll call Eddie so we can talk.”

“Good,” he nods, still professional, though the tension has left his shoulders. “I’ll leave you to get back to your work.”

He leaves and Iris turns back to her desk, but then someone is grabbing her from behind and spinning her, and then Barry’s lips are pressed against hers, his hand gently cupping her jaw. It is chaste and achingly tender, and Iris knows it’s because all of this means something else now. He lingers on her for a moment and then kisses her again, a small smile playing on his lips. “I really would like that report soon, Dr. West.”

“Anything for you, Detective.”

Even with this, Iris is still surprised to leave work at the end of the day and then see Barry, who picks her up and spins her around when she kisses him, not caring who sees. So, Detective Bartholomew Allen and Dr. Iris West hold hands and go on dates and fall in love, not knowing that, from the day they left the courthouse to right this minute as they head home, they are being watched.

***

“Iris, does _everyone_ in your family call me ‘Iris’ tall detective’?”

“No,” she replies immediately, pulling Barry’s jacket tighter around her. “Just my mother’s side. And Wally. And Cecile from the hospital.”

Barry just shakes his head, laughing. Francine West was a lovely woman, so he enjoyed dinner with her, but when Iris’ grandmother called halfway through and demanded to speak to him, he’d been more than a little surprised. “But I guess I can expect a care package in the mail?”

“God, I’m sorry – Mama Ida thinks everyone is too skinny. She also doesn’t trust the grits we have here.” She pauses and sighs. “Barry, I am really sorry about my dad-”

“It’s okay, Iris. I know he’s busy.”

Barry still hasn’t met Dr. West, which he would take personally if both Iris and Francine hadn’t told him that it’s rare the two of them even get dinner with him. He wants Iris’ dad to like him, though. More than like, him, actually, because…because he keeps thinking of what his mother had said, about love not working on a clock, and how whenever he thinks about the future Iris is always right there next to him. And none of that can happen if Dr. West doesn’t like him.

“Don’t worry,” she promises as they come to a stop outside her apartment. “I’m calling special forces on it. You’re having it dinner with him if it kills him.”

He leans down to kiss her, before slipping his jacket off her. “I don’t think that would make a good first impression, Iris.”

“Leave this to the experts, Barry.”

First impressions or no, Dr. Joseph West is not quite prepared for the coalition that greet him early the next morning. “Uh-oh,” he says. “What did I do?”

“Dad,” she says patiently. “This is getting ridiculous. You are the only one who hasn’t met Barry yet.”

“That can’t be right. What about Wally?”

“Met him in my apartment.”

“Mama Ida?”

“They talked on the phone. Dad, even Cecile has met him.”

“She’s right, Joseph,” her mother adds. “The poor boy is starting to think you don’t like him.”

“We had an oil tanker explode,” he points out. “That wasn’t my fault.”

“Dad, _please_. You can delegate this stuff; I know you can. There’s always going to be some kind of emergency, but I’m never going to…” _Love anyone like I love Barry_. “He means a lot to me, daddy.”

Joe sighs. “I really want to meet him, baby, but I have to make sure each department is fully staffed, that there are backup surgeons-”

“We thought you would say that,” her mother interrupts. She turns to the door. “Cecile!”

Her father’s head of trauma breezes into the room. “Morning, sir.”

“What are you doing here? What is this?”

“You really should meet Detective Allen, sir, he’s very nice.” She lays some papers on the desk. “Here is the schedule for next week – as you can see, you personally have two pancreatic tumour removals, a liver transplant, and you’re teaching the residents how to do a whipple surgery, plus all the paperwork. But I’ve talked to the heads of department and the nurses, and we’ve managed to work it out so you have a two-hour window free next Tuesday.”

He raises his eyebrows at her. “It was that easy?”

“Absolutely not, it took about two hours. But you never take days off and we can’t use all the skills the great Joe West taught us without any leg room.”

Her dad looks between the three of them, at Iris’ pouty face, his head of trauma, and his wife’s stern expression. “Y’all are wrong.”

“Yes,” his mother says, laughing. “But drastic times, as they say.”

“Fine. Now, what is his name again? Everyone keeps calling him ‘Iris’ tall detective’.”

Barry smiles when she finds him at work the next day, sorting through all his paperwork. “You’re in a good mood.”

“Uh-huh. Guess what you’re doing next Tuesday?”

He snorts. “Trying to convince Lawton not to go out with Hunter Bertinelli?”

“No, I – wait, the guy from the State’s Attorney’s office? Eddie’s friend? With the pocket watch?”

“Yeah, him. Poor guy won’t know what hit him.”

“No, but keep me posted. We’re having lunch with my dad.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Really? Or am I just going to get my heart broken again?”

She hits his shoulder. “Stop it. I made him promise, we got Cecile and my mom on it, it’s all set. I have to go to the optician in the morning, so I’ll meet you at the restaurant.”

“Alright, then. I hope he likes me.”

“Don’t worry, Barry, he’s going to love you as much as I do.” She pauses. “Well, not exactly like I do…”

“I hope not,” he grins. “I’m a taken man.”

They lean in to kiss each other, realise they’re still at work, and then straighten. Iris adjusts her glasses and smiles up at him. “Enjoy your day, detective.”

“You too, Dr. West.”

Tuesday rolls around and Lawton grins at Barry as he combs his hair in the little hand mirror in his desk, leaning over his desk. “Hot date with the good doctor?”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” he replies curtly, “but I’m meeting Iris’ dad today.”

“Aw, adorable. Hey, did you send all your legal stuff back to Eddie? He was hounding us about it.”

He frowns briefly. “Yeah, I did it last week. Shouldn’t be started for a while, though, right?”

“A few months at least. And they won’t need us for much, just repeating what we said before. The Baldwin Towers people will be doing most of the work, if they don’t all want to go to federal prison.”

Barry nods and stands, straightening his bowtie (Iris keeps buying them for him). She gives him a small smile. “What?”

“I’m glad you’re happy, Allen.”

“You know what? Me too.”

It’s curiously sunny for the middle of November, and Barry decides to walk to the restaurant instead of driving. Iris is still at the optician, so he’s just going to go there and wait for them to turn up. Francine already likes him, so he just needs to make an impression on her dad. Wally’s advice had been ‘try not to let on how much you like kissing her, you should be fine’, while Linda was more helpful and said just be himself. “Anyone who loves Iris is cool with Joe,” she’d said.

He finds himself outside the jewellery store where Tommy Larsen had been killed and pauses. His widow had been cleared of any wrongdoing, and now Baldwin Towers were paying for treatment if her kids developed any illnesses, not to mention for them to have a new place to live. The last time he’d been here, there was glass all over the floor and half of their things had been stolen. Insurance had paid for it and their window is repaired, thankfully, though now they know it was just a front. On a whim, he goes in and looks around. Maybe he’ll talk to the store owner, make sure everything’s good with them.

The pieces are displayed in glass cases, organised according to what kind of jewellery it is, the size, and how expensive it is. No one is in the store but him, so he peers through the cases. He’s somehow found himself in front of engagement rings, all different sizes and designs and colours. Iris likes wearing rings, she-

“Can I help you?” a small older man asks him, coming out of the back. He looks down to where Barry is looking. “Ah. I enjoy this part. When are you asking?”

“What – no, I’m not here for that. I’m a detective with the CCPD, I was just making sure everything was alright after that shooting that happened a few months ago.”

“I see,” he nods. “Well, everything is fine and dandy, detective. Our insurers were very understanding.”

“Good,” Barry says absently, his eyes stealing back to the rings again. “That’s good.” They really are very pretty. The man gives him a knowing look.

“Now, that’s the look of a man with ideas,” he says kindly. “Would you like to look?”

“No, it’s…We’ve only been together for a month.”

“Well, detective, I have been doing this a long time, and sometimes, those are the couples that last the longest. Do you know what she would like?”

Barry shrugs helplessly, looking at the rings. “I’m not sure, I…Wait. Uh, that one.”

“This?”

“Yes,” he says, more forcefully. It had jumped out at him like there were flashing lights on it. “She’d look nice in that. She’d look good in anything, but I…I like that, for her.”

“Round cut with diamond side stones, platinum,” he nods. “A magnificent choice. May I see a picture?”

Barry gets out his phone and shows him a picture of Iris from their picnic date, and he nods. “Yes, this would fit this lady perfectly. You have a good eye.”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs. “Like I said, we’ve only been together a month, so…”

“Well, what’s the harm in knowing.” He takes a card out of a box and scribbles the name of the ring on the back. “Take this. If it works, you know where to find me. If not…” He shrugs. “No harm, no foul.”

Barry smiles. “Thank you, sir.”

“No problem, detective.”

Barry walks out, the card tucked in his wallet, and heads to the restaurant. While he’s walking, he hears a loud bang and looks around in confusion. He feels like the wind has been punched out of him, and everything has gone weirdly silent. Also, his shoulder hurts and everyone on the street is looking at him. It looks like someone is screaming, but he still can’t hear.

Okay, this is weird. Somehow, he has ended up on the floor, looking up, and his shoulder _really_ hurts now. He keeps trying to speak, to ask what’s wrong, but no sound is coming out. The pain in his shoulder is becoming blinding now, and that’s when he sees the flashing lights. When he feels something warm and wet trickling through his fingers, he looks down to see the blood.

And then he passes out.

***

Being a resident surgeon in general surgery, there’s no real day of rest for Wally. Everyone has a perforated stomach or an appendix that needs removing or a kid that’s swallowed magnetic marbles. And he’s covered the ER enough times to know that he can get all manner of things in there as well. So when a gurney bursts into the room, two interns and paramedic trailing it, he knows exactly what to do.

“What do we got?” he asks. One of the interns replies.

“GSW to the left shoulder, he’s on morphine, but he’s lost a lot of blood and he won’t stop-” she breaks off to push the patient back down. “ _moving_. Sir, you have to hold still…”

“You need…” he gasps. “…call my…girlfriend…”

“Okay, get him to a trauma room,” he says curtly. The man has an oxygen mask over his face and the top half of his clothes have been cut away – just as well, because his wound is gushing blood. “Was it through and through?”

“…call her, she…lunch…”

The intern speaks as everyone hooks him up to machines and start examining his injuries. “No, it’s still in there.”

“…have to…her dad has to…like me, I have to ask him something…”

“He’ll need surgery to take it out,” Wally mutters. He glances back to the man’s face, still covered by the mask, before looking to see if there’s a room available. “Okay, sir? Sir, can you hear me?”

“…I already found a…it’s pretty, she’ll…like it…call her, please…”

“We’ll call her,” someone promises, just as a phone starts ringing. “Dr. West? There’s one more thing.”

“That’s her, please, I can’t be late…I can’t…” he takes a breath. “You have to…she’s my…”

“What?” Wally asks.

“He’s a cop. Detective, actually. They think it was a mob shooting and they were going for a headshot, but the guy’s too tall.”

Wally freezes. _Tall detective_. “Can someone get an ID on this guy? What’s his name?”

“Bartholomew Allen.” One of the interns hands him his badge. Wally’s heart drops out of his chest and he strides quickly to the guy, who’s still moaning in pain. “Barry? Hey, bud, can you hear me?”

“Wally?” he mumbles. He blinks dazedly at him. “Wally, you have to…call Iris for me, she’ll…” he gasps. “…she’ll be mad if – if I’m late…”

“Who’s the trauma surgeon on-call?” he demands.

“Dr. Williams, but she’s in surgery-”

“Cecile,” Wally mutters. “I need someone higher up for this – HEY! Hey, Barry, stay with me, alright? Everything will be fine, okay?”

“What…happened? My shoulder hurts and there’s all this…blood…”

“Barry, you were shot, do you understand? And we need to take the bullet out.” He turns away. “Page the other Dr. West.”

“But we were told not to-”

“That wasn’t a suggestion! One of you, get him some painkillers.” He turns back to Barry, who is shivering, and switches his mask out for tubes.

“Wally,” he whispers. It’s getting harder and harder for him to talk. “I want…I want Iris…could you…get her for me?”

Wally looks around helplessly. “I’ll – Barry, we have to get you into surgery, _right now_ , or-”

“Wallace Rudolph West, this better be good, Iris is going to kill me if I’m late for meeting her boyfriend,” his uncle snaps, walking into the room. He frowns as he takes in the scene of everyone running around and Barry lying on the table. “What the hell is going on here?”

“I think Iris is going to kill us for a whole different reason if we don’t fix this,” Wally mutters. “ _This_ is her boyfriend; he was shot on the way here.”

“He was _shot_?,” Joe demands, and then he snaps to attention. He takes off his dinner jacket and puts on some scrubs. “Through and through?”

“No, it might be pressing a nerve.”

“Alright, call up and say we’re coming with an emergency surgery, and we might need a neurosurgeon. Hey, Barry?”

“Who…” he swallows. “Who are you?”

“I’m Dr…I’m Iris’ dad, son.”

“Dr. West? Oh, I’m…sorry, sir, I can’t make lunch. Wally…s-said I was…shot.”

“That’s okay, we’re going to fix you.”

“Iris will be…mad.”

“Not if I can help it. We’re gonna put you to sleep and take the right bullet out, alright?”

Barry nods, looking very small and childlike. “Dr. West?”

“You can go ahead and call me Joe, son.”

“Joe. Could you…could you have Iris here when I…wake up?”

“I will. I promise.”

***

Typical. _Typical_.

She should have known. This is just something that happens with her dad, even if he does try his best to avoid it. Which is why she’s pacing around his office wondering exactly what she’s going to say to him when he shows up with an apology. And Barry won’t pick up his phone, either. Her mother went straight to the restaurant, so she’s trying to see whether they’ve met yet, but it keeps going straight to voicemail. She sighs. “Hey, Bar, it’s me. My mom is supposed to be meeting you there, so call me when you see her, okay? My dad is…well, he might not make it. But if he doesn’t, just remember how pretty you think I am. I love you.”

She’s about to call her dad again when Linda appears in the office, her expression worried. “Lin? What are you doing here? I thought you were getting lunch with Wally today.”

“I…am,” she says quietly.  Her voice is shaking slightly. “He sent me to find you, he was pulled into emergency surgery with your dad. Someone was shot.”

She exhales. “I guess it was too good to be true, huh? Wait, this might be Barry.”

“Iris, wait-”

“Hang on. Oh, Floriana, hey. No, I’m not with him, he’s late.” Then she frowns. “He’s been _what_? No, he isn’t, I’m at the…hospital...” her face clears, realising what Linda’s here to tell her, what that expression means, and then she’s barrelling past Linda, downstairs to the ER.

“Barry!”

She’s vaguely aware of Linda behind her, shouting her name, but Floriana said that Barry was _shot_ and such a thing is so foreign to her, so foreign and horrible and _wrong_ …

“BARRY!”

She knows she’s not supposed to be yelling in the hospital, but she does not care one bit, because Barry is hurt somewhere, without her, and he’ll have that look on his face, all lost and alone…

“ _BARRY_!”

She finds him then, in a trauma room, surrounded by doctors and nurses, all of whom look at her when she bursts in, Linda right behind her. Both her father and Wally look at her. “Iris, you have to go,” he says. “We have to get him to surgery-”

“What happened to him? Who did this?”

“We’re not sure, but-”

“I-Iris?” Barry whispers, hearing her voice, and she pushes past everyone. She hears her father tell everyone to leave, but all she can see is Barry, lying on the bed with a bandage wrapped around his shoulder. He takes a painful breath. “S-Sorry I’m…late…”

“That’s okay,” she says quickly, trying for a smile despite the dread eating at her. He frowns.

“Iris, don’t cry,” he whispers. “Wally said he’s taking it out…and then I want to…ask-”

Iris whimpers when a shout tears its way out of Barry, his body arching off the bed. “What is it, what’s happening to him?”

“The bullet is probably pressing on a nerve,” her father says. “Iris, I’m sorry, but we have to go-”

Barry yells again, sweat beading on his brow, and then they just wheel him away. She feels herself wobble, and then Linda is there, guiding her to a chair. The next few hours pass in a haze and little events. Her mother gets there. Barry is under. She somehow calls Nora, who comes as well and collapses into her arms. Lawton is talking to Eddie; they’ll be here later. Barry is okay, they’re about to take the bullet out. They catch the guy who shot him. Half of the precinct show up, but only the captain comes to sit with them. The bullet is out, but there’s a complication. Wait, no, it’s fine, he’s fine, he’s out of surgery. All through it Iris concentrates on those words, because otherwise it’s too big, and it will swallow her whole.

Someone shakes her shoulder and she wakes, lifting her head out of her mother’s lap. It’s Wally, who looks tired and stressed and is smiling. “Where is he? Can I see him?”

“Yeah,” he answers. “Both of you can,” he adds, gesturing to Nora. “He’s okay, we got it out, and there shouldn’t be any complications other than the chance of infection.”

Iris looks at Nora. “You can go,” she says to his mother. “You should see him first. I’ll wait.”

“I’ll get you something to eat afterwards, Nora,” the captain adds, and the other woman nods, wiping her eyes, before they go to the room together. Wally collapses into a chair and Linda puts her arm around him. Her mother squeezes her hand. “You okay, baby?”

Iris just shakes her head helplessly. “We were supposed to be getting lunch,” she whispers. Her mother pulls her into a hug, and she lets herself be soothed until Captain Nimbus walks out with Nora to the cafeteria about half an hour later. Then she gets up and goes in herself, glad that no one is following. Barry is pale and still with a tube going into his right arm and his other is in a sling, but his chest is rising and falling evenly. She wipes her eyes and sits on the bed, careful not to jostle any of the wires.

“So Wally thought I might be mad at you,” she begins, laughing weakly. “Maybe I am, a little, you’re late. Your mom came to see you, and the whole precinct is here, and my mom, and Linda, and we called your sister; she’ll be here tomorrow. So you have…people.”

She can faintly see the scar from when he was in that brawl and a sob works its way out of her, because she can’t fix this, she can’t make it better with words and bandages. She swallows a few times, and then lays her head very gently on his chest. Barry’s heart is slow and steady, and even though she’s half hanging off the bed, she really doesn’t want to go back out into the waiting room. “Dad and Wally said you did really well, which – of course you did, you’re you. I talked to Eddie, he’s got some stuff to figure out because it…turns out those people weren’t happy about us testifying in the trial, but don’t worry about that right now, okay? Just take care of yourself and get better, because you can fix my glasses and get me soup and stand up to mob lawyers for me, but you are not allowed to leave me, Barry Allen, do you hear me? So you just – just wake up for me, okay? And then we can figure out what to do next.”

There is silence, apart from the beeping of the heart monitor’s, and then Iris hears, “Marry me.”

Iris hasn’t had a lot of sleep, and she’s been crying for about two hours, so she doesn’t quite trust her judgement. But she still thinks she hears him whisper it, and when she sits up, he’s smiling weakly at her. “ _Barry_ , you’re awake!” She hugs him.

“Ow,” he breathes.

“Sorry! I’m sorry, you just…you’re awake.” Then she remembers what he said. “You’re awake and…you want me to marry you?”

He nods. “Okay,” she laughs quietly. “Okay, those must be some amazing painkillers. I should get Wally to check this dosage…”

“Iris,” he says quietly, and then she looks in his eyes, steady despite everything that’s happening. She gasps.

“God, you – Barry, you’re serious.”

He nods again and she looks around, running a hand through her hair. “Barry, we’ve been on like – four dates?”

“What,” he laughs weakly, “we’re not counting this?”

She exhales. “You haven’t even met my dad…”

“No, I met him,” he insists, sitting up, “I met him, he took a bullet out of me. He seems…nice.”

“Yeah, but – Barry, would you _lie back_ , you were shot – but three months ago we didn’t even… _know_ each other…”

“Iris.” He takes her hand. “I know all that. But I while I was lying there bleeding and…apologising for your dad for not being able to make lunch,” Barry frowns, which makes Iris laugh, “all I could think about was that I wouldn’t get to see you anymore if I didn’t…make it. And I thought of all the stuff we haven’t done yet, or seen yet, or _been_ yet. I didn’t care about anyone else but you. Iris, you’re the first thing I want to see when I wake up and the last thing I want to see before I go to sleep, and the one I want to do everything in between with. I love you, and I’ll never stop loving you either.”

Iris can’t look at him, can’t look him in the eyes, because she knows for a fact he means every damn word and it’s overwhelming. She doesn’t realise she’s crying until a tear splashes down on her hand. “This is really big, Barry.”

“I know,” he admits. He swallows, searching her face. “But none of what you said is ‘no’, Iris.”

Iris opens her mouth and she honestly doesn’t know what’s going to come out, but then someone else walks into the room. “Barry!”

“I’m fine, mom, really-” he starts, but then his mother is hugging him as hard as she can without hurting him, and the captain follows. Then Linda and her mother follow, and Wally calls her dad in so they can talk about what to do next. Iris drifts away as everyone comes in and greets Barry, wrapping her arms around herself. Barry reassures everyone that he’s fine, but he keeps sneaking glances at her, waiting for an indication of her answer. She’s still so confused and unsure, so she just sits back quietly, arms folded and avoiding his eyes, while everyone talks to him. Barry’s face falls, fractionally, but he keeps smiling right until Lawton bursts into the room along with some other cops.

“You idiot,” she says, her voice wobbling.

“Hey, Deadshot,” he grins weakly.

“You world-class _asshole_.”

“What did I do?”

“You are not supposed to go off and get _shot_ without me,” she tells him. She looks part sad and part furious. “I’m your partner!”

“What, you don’t think I wish you were there? If that were you I’d be fine – you would have missed.”

“ _Barry_!” his mother admonishes, and Iris laughs along with the rest of the room.

“Okay, now that we’ve got all that out of the way,” her dad says, “how are you feeling, Barry?”

“Tired,” he admits. “And my shoulder hurts a bit.”

“Well, that’s to be expected. Thankfully it didn’t damage anything. With therapy and recovery, you should be fine in a few months.”

“When can I go back to work?”

“If any of you,” Nora says dangerously, “let him back into work before Dr. West says it’s okay, I will shoot you myself.”

“And I’ll help,” Lawton adds. “Barry, seriously, have you lost your mind?”

Everyone starts talking again and Iris sits down, closing her eyes. She had been on that ledge all night, of whether Barry would survive or not, and now he has and he’s asked her the biggest question you can ask. And she has never been so scared of anything in her life, but then she thinks of the alternative, if he hadn’t come out of surgery, and the answer is easy. “Hey,” Linda says softly, coming to sit next to her. “You okay, honey?”

“Yeah,” she replies. “I just decided something.”

Linda gives her a curious look, but then someone says, “Dr. West?”

“Yes?” Iris, Wally and her dad all say together. Nora blinks.

“Does that happen a lot?”

“You get used to it,” Francine says.

“Eddie,” Iris says, recognising the lawyer. “Are you alright?”

He looks like he hasn’t slept all night. “I’m fine,” he says. “Barry, you – God, I am so sorry-”

“It’s not your fault, Eddie,” Barry tells him. “It’s not like you shot me.” Eddie runs a hand through his blonde hair.

“Yeah, but you wouldn’t be in this position if it weren’t for me,” he says quietly.

“It was our idea,” Lawton tells him. Nora looks at him.

“Nobody here blames you Eddie.”

“Plus, you came to visit me,” Barry continues. “Points for that.”

“Actually, I came to see Iris.”

She blinks. “You did?”

“Yeah. The investigation went federal, but then this happened so it’s obvious you guys are still in danger. We can give you 24-hour protection, whatever you want, but the State’s Attorney downstairs to talk to you to see if you’re still in because we never got your paperwork.”

“Yeah, I was going to drop it off after lunch,” she says. “But then…you know.”

“So will you do it?”

The room erupts into chatter, half the people saying that she should do it and she can be protected, and the other half saying that she shouldn’t feel bad if she doesn’t want to. But Iris just looks at Eddie and says, “I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure?” Eddie asks. “I won’t be mad if you don’t want to, Iris…”

“I’m doing it,” Iris tells him calmly, “because they shot my fiancé.” She looks back at Barry. A smile spreads slowly across his face, that wondrous one that she saw when they went on their first date, and their second, and when she walked back into his room in his shirt, because inexplicably, Barry Allen loves her as much as she loves him. The whole room is in stunned silence. She smiles back at Barry and turns to Eddie. “I’ll talk to them. Is he downstairs?”

“Y-Yeah,” he says, looking just as shocked as everyone else. “Just, uh, follow me.”

Iris leaves, and everyone shares at each other, shocked. Then Iris comes back in and, without a word, kisses Barry in front of everyone. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Listen to the doctors.”

“’Kay.”

When she leaves again, Barry is grinning around at all the shocked faces. “That’s me,” he says excitedly. “I’m her fiancé, she’s talking about me!”

_One month later_

Nobody wants him to go back to work.

“You _can’t_ , Barry,” his mother points out. “Wally says that your stitches will still take a while to dissolve.”

“But I feel better!”

“Your had a bullet in your shoulder, son,” Joe points out. Barry sighs but sits back on his pillows. After four weeks in the hospital, he’s finally being discharged today. Iris is downstairs filling in his discharge papers, they’ll all go back to his mom’s house for dinner. “Listen, I want you in therapy twice a week, do you hear me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Joe is fine, Barry.”

Barry smiles at him. He can’t stop grinning when he thinks of when Iris casually dropped that she’d accepted his proposal and then walked out. Linda and his mother had looked delighted, Francine and Lawton looked amused, Joe and Wally looked surprised, and everyone else looked like they weren’t sure whether to celebrate or not. But Iris didn’t waver, and she still hasn’t, though he knew that he still had to talk to her dad about it. He took the opportunity when Barry was alone, not being fussed over by nurses.

“Look, Barry, you seem like a nice guy,” he’d began, “and God knows Iris does not need my permission to marry anyone but…that’s my baby girl. I need to know that you’re going to look after her.”

Barry has never been good with big speeches, so he’d just told the truth. “I’ve never loved anyone or anything the way I love her,” he’d said simply. “I’d take that same bullet for her over and over if I had to.”

Joe had looked surprised. “Well, I wasn’t expecting that.”

“She’s my world, sir.” And she is. He doesn’t know how he would have gotten through these weeks without her, and he’s happy he doesn’t have to worry about that ever again.

Back in the present, Joe picks up his clipboard. “I’ll call to see how you’re doing. Nora, we’ll have to have that lunch soon.”

“Thanks for everything, Joe,” she says gratefully. He nods and leaves, and Barry swings his legs over the bed.

“Barry, would you please, for a moment, act like someone who was shot in the shoulder a month ago?”

“I want to see it,” he insists, and his mother looks outside to check the coast is clear, before pulling a small velvet box out of her purse. Barry grins when he recognises the ring, exactly the same as he’d seen it in the store. “He resized it,” she explains, “and said the fit should be perfect.”

Barry holds it in his palm, almost afraid to touch it the ring itself. “She’ll love it.”

“That’s what he said. He was very eager, and he gave you a discount.”

He grins. Before he would have said it was a bizarre coincidence, them meeting (and then yelling at) each other in front of that jewellery store, but now he kind of feels like it’s destiny. That he and Iris are destiny.  “He and I go way back.”

“When are you doing it?”

“As soon as we’re settled,” he says. “I’m waiting for the right moment. We still have a lot of stuff to talk about.”

Like where they’re going to live, and money, and…kids. Which is terrifying and wonderful and makes him way more excited than it should. “But I want to do it soon.”

“Really?”

“When you know,” he shrugs, “you know.”

His mother smiles. “I’m so happy for you, my beautiful boy.”

“Me too.”

“Okay! You’re good to go, and I have all your medication,” Iris says, breezing into the room. Barry hides the ring box in his pocket. “And your therapy appointments are all sorted. Hi, Nora.”

“Hi, honey,” she says sweetly. She gets up. “I’ll just bring the car around and we can get going.”

Iris starts packing Barry’s stuff up before she gets back. “What did dad say?”

“I can go back to work next week.”

“Uh-huh. And when I call him tonight?”

“Eh, it was worth a shot.”

Iris grins at him, shaking her head, and his eyes fall on a paper on the side. Everything had been in the papers, and since then they had a discreet guard tailing them. There hadn’t been much more worry, because they’d caught the shooter and the people involved with Baldwin Towers were giving away identities left and right to save themselves, but Eddie still insisted that someone keep an eye on them. Barry was firm that Iris’ parents, Linda and Wally, get one as well, to reassure them, but he is not as worried as one usually would be.

But that’s another story.

“How was your day?” he continues.

“Lawton still hates working with anyone who’s not you,” she replies, “Dr. Wells says hi, and Wally still hates you.”

“He does?”

“Well, no. But you did kind of steal his thunder, Barry.”

“Not my fault,” he points out. She gives him a look. “My whole life flashed before my eyes! Marrying you is the first thing that came to mind when I woke up.”

“That works on me, but maybe try a different line with Wally.” Iris climbs into his lap, lying them both back on the bed, and lays her head on his chest, sighing. They lay like that for a while, before she looks up at him, grabbing his chin. “Barry?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t you dare do that again.”

He gulps. “Y-Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Now come on, we have dinner.”

***

Iris finally takes Barry’s tennis ball away from him when he’s been throwing the thing at the wall four forty-five minutes. “You’re going to make your hand cramp up,” she points out. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

Barry glances at the clock – which he did all through dinner, Iris noticed – and shrugs. “I want it to get better.”

“Patience, babe. You’ve made lots of progress already.”

They’re in his apartment, having just come back from Nora’s. Malina – Barry younger sister who has already decided she likes Iris better than him – made them his favourite meal, and she got to see him with his whole family. He crawls up next to her on the sofa and lies in her lap, and she starts playing with his hair, not taking her eyes from her book. “You okay?” he asks softly.

“Me? I’m fine. You’re the one who was shot.”

“And you’re the one who has to deal with it.”

She bites her lip. During one of his appointments, Iris just randomly burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably, and Barry ended up comforting _her_. One of the nurses had to offer to sedate her. She was embarrassed and ashamed, but Wally just explained it was stress and fear. It wasn’t surprising given what had happened to Barry, especially considering the circumstances. But she is better, and she’s working, and she has their life to figure out.

Because they’ve decided to have a life now.

They decided on a long engagement, since they did really meet three months ago. They’ll live together four days a week, and they’re still deciding on whether they want a house or apartment, but they’ve already decided to save for it. And Barry wants kids with her, which he just casually dropped into conversation while they were eating breakfast the other day. (The man really does have to stop blindsiding her like this, she is twenty-five and too damn young for a heart attack). And judging by how eager he was to get back to practicing (‘I can’t believe you asked your physical therapist about sex, Barry!’), it’s a lot.

“I’m okay,” she admits. “You’re here, right?”

“Always,” he replies. He looks at the clock again and she exhales. “Okay, that’s it. What are you looking at?”

“You’ll see in a minute. Come out to the balcony.”

“Barry, it’s December!”

But she lets herself be pulled outside, where they can hear the sounds from the streets below and see the moon and stars above. It will be Christmas soon, and Iris has already started shopping for everyone, eager to get back to normal. “Oh,” she says suddenly, turning in Barry’s arms “don’t think that just because you got shot, we’re not talking about you dating my arch nemesis. Thank God for Malina.”

“How was I supposed to know you went to school with Becky Cooper?”

Iris turns back to the view and makes an irritated noise in her throat and Barry laughs, nuzzling in the back of her neck. “Idiot,” she mutters, making him laugh harder. “What am I waiting for?”

“Wait for it…”

She doesn’t wait long. There’s a flash of green light, and then a woman is standing in front of her on the balcony. She has pretty blonde curls tinged with silver, a green and gold jacket, and bronze helmet. And Iris’ heart stops. “You – You’re-”

“Madam Miracle,” she says. “But you can call me Jay Garrick.”

She blinks. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to check on you two. Barry and I go way back.”

“My grandmother was Jay’s partner,” he explains. “So we’ve kept in touch.”

“Oh,” Iris breathes. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Jay.” The older woman smiles at her.

“You too, Iris. And I hear congratulations are in order.”

“As soon as we have a date,” Barry tells her, “your invitation will be in the mail.”

She nods. “Good to know. Now, Iris, I know you’re worried about the people who hurt Barry, but I wanted you to know I’m keeping an eye on you. I and some…friends.”

“Friends?” Barry repeats.

“Next time we have dinner, remind me to tell you about the Justice Society.”

Iris has no idea what that is, so she just nods. Jay puts her helmet back on. “Well, I have to go. Barry, I’m glad to see you’re doing better. I’ll see you both soon.”

She disappears and Iris is left staring after her in shock. “Okay. Now I’ve seen everything.”

“Yeah,” he admits. “Only family know, but…well, you’re going to be my family now.”

Iris’ heart swells. “You’re so lucky we’re engaged, or I’d never forgive you for having me meet Madam Miracle in my Commander Carl socks.”

He smiles, stepping away from her and looking slightly nervous, as he puts a hand in his back pocket. “I think that’s everything you need to know. So, I think this is as good a time as any to ask…”

Iris gasps as he sinks to one knee and pulls out the ring box, his green eyes shining and his smile bright. “…if, Iris West, you still wanna marry me?”

It’s started snowing lightly, coating the city in a thin blanket of white, and it’s falling on Barry’s hair and on his shoulders, catching the light from the lamps outside and making it shine like stars. Iris steps closer to him, cradling her face in her hands, and considers this man, who became everything to her so damn quickly she didn’t realise it was happening, and she still doesn’t. She doesn’t know how she got so lucky.

“Yes, Barry. I still want to marry you.”

Barry smiles radiantly at her and slips the ring on her finger, she pulls him up from the ground. He catches her in a hug and spins her around, still smiling. “Yeah?”

Looping one arm around his neck, she runs her fingers over his lips the way he likes before she kisses him. “Anything for you, Detective.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked that! Like I said, I tried to write it in such a way that you could read it without reading the original story, and it was a lot of fun for me. You can probably tell that last part was inspired by Grey's Anatomy, haha. And if you do read MM, I hope you liked it even more! If you've read the latest chapter this is what WA were talking about, and if you haven't, nothing is really ruined. Thanks for reading ;)


End file.
